Summer with Oh no, not you!
by Myranya
Summary: Okay, I know this has been done, many times. I still think my version makes an interesting read. Some violence/child abuse. No slash!
1. A good summer but not for everyone

I've written other stories but this is my first HP fanfic. Harry gets to spend his summer with one of his least favorite people. I know, not an original concept but I think I still managed to make it interesting. No slash! This story can be considered complete but it will have a sequel covering the school year. Reviews welcome, flames will be fed to the blast-ended screwts. 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**1. A good summer, but not for everyone.**

Harry was having one of the best summers of his life. Yes, he was still with the Dursleys. But like last year, he had his trunk, wand and books with him in his room, and Hedwig as well. The Dursleys were still afraid of his godfather, and increasingly afraid of him, Harry, too. After all, he was more than halfway through Hogwarts now (although, of course, the Dursleys never mentioned it by name), and while they knew he wasn't allowed to do any magic during the summer holidays, they knew he could, and would, if he was pushed too far. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had modified Aunt Marge's memory after the incident two summers ago, but Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley remembered exactly what happened.

Last year's almost non-existent meals had also improved. Mealtimes at the Dursley house would never be Harry's favorite, since it meant he had to be in the same room with his family, but at least there was real food on the table again. Dudley had hardly lost any weight last summer, and during the school year had managed to procure a lot of extra food. Harry figured he'd bullied and stolen it from his school mates. They still didn't stock school uniforms big enough for him, but Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to a tailor and had some made on order, especially for 'her Dudleykins'. 

Which brought up another thing that Harry had been able to improve; he finally wore clothes that fit him. He'd exchanged some galleons for Muggle money at Gringott's, cursing himself he hadn't thought of doing so when he'd seen Hermione's parents exchange their Muggle money at the start of their second year. In the end, it had been Hermione who had suggested it, rolling her eyes as she asked him how he could have overlooked something so obvious. He'd bought himself some Muggle jeans, T-shirts and shorts through mail order. 

That was the one major downside to the summer, he couldn't go to the mall to do his shopping, or anywhere else for that matter. Since Voldemort had risen again, Dumbledore had placed several strong wards on the Dursley's house, without the Dursley's knowing of course, and made Harry promise not to leave the premises unless one of the teachers from Hogwarts or another trusted older wizard was with him. Harry had reluctantly agreed. Voldemort would still love to get his hands on him, he didn't doubt that. And he hadn't left the house much in any of the previous summers, either. But it still irked him a bit, he was almost fifteen years old, and finally had some Muggle money of his own; if it wasn't for Voldemort he would've gone shopping for some clothes and books, and there were one or two Muggle movies that didn't sound too bad… Oh well, it wasn't to be. At least he could avoid the Dursleys most of the day by staying up in his room, reading, exchanging letters with his friends, and studying. 

Meanwhile, the Dursleys were not having a good summer at all. After last year's incident of the Ton-Tongue Toffee, Dudley was even more scared of Harry than before. At dinner time, he sat as far from Harry as he could manage, and ate while constantly glancing at Harry to make sure he didn't do anything to the food. The toffee hadn't been Harry's, but that didn't seem to make a difference in Dudley's mind.

Uncle Vernon didn't like Harry one bit better than ever, and the fact that he was afraid to yell at him too much didn't do him any good. Harry could recall several times when his uncle had started to holler about one thing or another, then stopped and almost choked. His uncle's eyes had bulged, and his face had been redder than Harry had ever seen it, even that time five years ago when they had tried to outrun Hogwart's letters. Twice, Uncle Vernon had literally staggered out of the room, his breath ragged, and hadn't appeared again the rest of the day. Harry was slightly worried his uncle might have a heart attack, and tried not to do anything to aggravate him. Something which, while noble, was also rather futile, for his being there was aggravating in itself. Uncle Vernon knew quite well he was there, even when he was upstairs in his room.

Aunt Petunia spent all her time worrying about Uncle Vernon and Dudley. She fussed over both of them, comforting them with words that were all but friendly to Harry, right under his nose. Harry himself didn't care about the remarks, he already knew how well his aunt liked him, and she, too, never addressed him directly like that any more That was good enough for him. Dudley revelled in his mother's attention, allowing her to dote on him and smiling at her snide remarks about Harry (but only when he thought Harry wasn't looking). Uncle Vernon responded badly to her doting care. He tensed when she tussled his hair, and he gritted his teeth when she spoke. Harry wasn't sure if she truly didn't see how Uncle Vernon reacted, or that she couldn't help herself and carried on in spite of it because she, too, was stressed beyond her ability to cope. 

No, it wasn't an easy summer for the Dursleys, and there were three weeks yet to go.


	2. The incident

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**2. The incident.**

It had started as another uneventful day. Harry had spent the morning reading a Muggle fantasy book Hermione had sent him, and while it was completely wrong when it came to magic it was still quite enjoyable. And why not? Most Muggles believed magic didn't exist at all, and they could enjoy the story. Harry had gone straight back upstairs after lunch and now he was doing his homework, an essay about the advantages and disadvantages of using transfigured items instead of items conjured out of thin air. Uncle Vernon was at work, Dudley was watching television in the kitchen, and Aunt Petunia was having a lay-down, as she'd been doing regularly lately. Harry didn't think she had been sleeping too well.

As he finished a particularly difficult paragraph, Harry noticed how thirsty he was. Or actually, he'd been noticing it for the past half hour, and ignored it. Getting a drink meant going into the kitchen, and he preferred to avoid Dudley if at all possible. Of course he could just get a glass of water from the bathroom sink. But it was a hot day, and an ice cold coke sounded awfully good just now. Sighing, he wiped his quill, put it down, and went downstairs. 

He walked into the kitchen and was relieved to find that Dudley was so wrapped up in the movie he was watching (some action flick, and judging by the sound of the music, nearing an especially tense moment) that he barely flinched when Harry came in. Harry quickly went over to the fridge, took out a can of coke, and made to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when the sound from the TV suddenly stopped, and Dudley let out a scream of anger. Turning to look what had happened, Harry noticed the screen had gone black and a few white letters appeared. Ah, it was only a problem at the station that had interrupted the movie. Harry turned back to the door when a second scream of rage made him turn around yet again. Dudley had got up from his seat and was rising his balled fist in the air. 

"No, dammit, I want to know what happens next!" he yelled, and punched the screen, hard. It shattered, and at the same instant Dudley yelled louder as he was shocked by the electricity. Then his yell cut off as he slumped to the floor.

Harry had frozen when he saw Dudley punch the telly. It'd gone too fast for him to do anything. Now he put his coke down on the counter without looking, knocking it over in the process. 

"Dudley?!?" he called out. *Please, don't let him be dead* he thought as he started forward. He hated his cousin but he didn't want him to die right here in front of him! He reached out to check for a pulse, then remembered he could get shocked as well, and pulled the plug out first. He reached for Dudley again, but before he could touch him, the kitchen door flew open and Aunt Petunia burst in. 

"What is going… Oh my God!" she screamed as she took in the scene. Then, instead of checking on Dudley, she turned on Harry. "You hurt him! You hurt my Dudleykins!" 

Harry straightened. "I didn't," he replied. "Dudley…"

"Don't lie to me! Go up to your room, get away from him, get out of here, get out!" Aunt Petunia screamed hysterically. 

Harry threw one more glance at her, then decided that arguing was useless. He dodged past her into the hall, still not knowing whether Dudley was alive or dead, and ran up the stairs. Aunt Petunia launched herself onto Dudley as soon as he was past her. 

Halfway up the stairs, Harry stopped and went back down. He went into the living room and dialled 999, suspecting that Aunt Petunia wouldn't have the presence of mind to think of that. He quickly gave the dispatcher the address and explained what had happened, then hung up in spite of being told to stay on the line. He'd make sure he was out of the way when the ambulance came, or there would only be a bigger scene.


	3. In which someone loses control

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**3. In which someone loses control.**

Soon after Harry had gone upstairs, he heard the ambulance crew arrive. They rang the doorbell, then knocked and hollered loudly, and Harry had almost gone downstairs to let them in when he'd finally heard Aunt Petunia leave the kitchen and open the front door. She had not left the kitchen until then; he'd been correct when he'd judged her incapable of calling for help herself.

He couldn't make out everything that happened downstairs, but what he did hear seemed to indicate that Dudley was still alive, if unconscious. The ambulance crew had considerable difficulty carrying him out of the house, but they managed, and they drove off, sirens screaming. Aunt Petunia had gone with them, still wailing.

That was hours ago. Harry had tried to continue his essay, but found he couldn't concentrate. He was now writing letters to Hermione and Ron, telling them what had happened, and was debating whether he would send Hedwig out with them right away. The Dursleys hadn't exactly forbidden him to let her out during the day, but only because they were too scared to. Harry kept Hedwig in her cage during the day for sake of his uncle's sanity, and while he really wanted to tell someone about the incident, he also didn't want to be the cause of any more stress right now. 

He hadn't made up his mind when he heard sounds downstairs. Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Heavy steps sounded through the hall. 

"HARRY!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from downstairs.

Before Harry could reply, he could hear his uncle come stamping up the stairs, and the door to his room, which had been ajar, flew open so hard it crashed into the wall.

Harry had got up when he heard his uncle holler, but he started and shrunk back when he saw Uncle Vernon enter the room. The big man had turned bright red, beads of sweat stood out on his face, he was gritting his teeth, breathing like an angry bull, and clenching his fists.

"YOU ALMOST KILLED DUDLEY!" Uncle Vernon cried.

Harry held up his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture. "I didn't," he replied again. "Dudley punched the TV when..."

"YOU'RE LYING!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. 

"Uncle Vernon," Harry tried, but it was futile. 

Uncle Vernon pulled back his fist and swung, hard, connecting with Harry's right eye. "DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!" he yelled. 

Harry yelled in pain and fell down, clamping his hands to his face. That _hurt! _Uncle Vernon had beaten him before, but not for several years, and usually it'd just been a slap. He'd never been punched full force in the face. He tried to scoot back, away from his raging uncle, who kicked him hard in the right knee. 

Harry yelled out in pain again, clutched his knee with one hand and his face with his other. Uncle Vernon drew back and kicked again, now against his ribs, and Harry gasped for breath. 

"Uncle Vernon, stop, no!" Harry managed. He held let go of his knee and face, holding his arms up, trying to fend off his uncle's kicks.

"YOU ARE NO FAMILY OF MINE!" Uncle Vernon raged on, and he dragged Harry up, only to punch him again. Harry fell backwards, striking his head against the desk and knocking over the lamp. 

Harry's head rung, he saw flashed of light in front of his eyes. He tried to roll himself into a ball, holding his arms over his head, but he felt Uncle Vernon pick him up by the arms, and he struggled, in vain. His uncle was too big and, in spite of his fat, quite strong. 

"No, Uncle Vernon, please listen to me!" he yelled as Uncle Vernon picked him up and threw him down again, where he slammed into his open trunk, hard. Harry screamed again as he fell with his arm on the edge and heard a sickening snap. A sharp pain shot through his arm and tears welled in his eyes. He blinked his eyes, or at least his left. His right was hurting like hell and refused to co-operate. 

"YOU FREAK!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, as he stepped forward and reached for Harry again. 

Harry, truly scared now, tried to crawl around the trunk. He couldn't see well, with his right eye shut and his head throbbing, but there was only one thing he could think of. With his good, left arm, he reached into the trunk for his wand.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Uncle Vernon cried, and with a massive heave he pulled the entire trunk, wand and all, towards him, out of Harry's reach. He looked around for a moment, head turning this way and that, eyes darting like a wild animal. Then, with another heave, Uncle Vernon threw the entire trunk out the window, straight through the windowpane, shattering glass everywhere.

Harry screamed again, torn between reaching for the window and getting away from his uncle's fists. He tried desperately to think of a way to stop his uncle without his wand. He'd done wandless magic before, two years ago with Aunt Marge and even before he went to Hogwarts. But it had always been by accident, he didn't really know how he had done it, and his head hurt so bad he couldn't concentrate! _He had to stop his uncle, he had to, he had to! _ It was no use, the only thing that happened was his head started to throb even worse. He braced himself for the next assault.

However, it seemed Uncle Vernon had found another target for his rage, at least temporarily. He picked up the loose books laying in the room and threw them out of the window after the trunk. 

"I AM THROWING YOU OUT, YOU AND ALL YOUR FREAKISH THINGS!" he roared. Then he reached for Hedwig's cage.

"NO!" Harry shrieked. He made a grab for the cage but was flung aside. His protests had just as much effect as his earlier ones, which meant none at all. He watched helplessly as Uncle Vernon threw a screaming and flapping Hedwig out the window, still in her cage. 

Harry knew only one thing to do. He scrambled to his feet, ignored the stinging pain in his knee, and dashed past his uncle through the door. He half-ran, half-fell down the stairs, stumbled through the kitchen, which was still covered in shards of glass, spilled coke and other debris, and ran out into the back yard, where Hedwig, his trunk and all his other things had landed.

Breathing hard, he almost collapsed on top of his trunk. Since it'd been open, most of the contents had spilled out. It had a large crack on the side, too. He dug through the pile of books, robes and other items feverishly, as quickly as he could with one arm, then his heart jumped with relief. His wand was in one piece. He pulled it out of the mess and pointed it at the back door, just as Uncle Vernon was coming out.

"Don't come near me!" Harry called out.

Uncle Vernon stopped. His face went from bright red to dead white in a matter of seconds. 

"I will go, but don't come any closer," Harry said, and he was surprised by how steady his voice sounded. He didn't know why he had not cursed his uncle instead of just warning him off, he could stupify him, or tie him up, or any of a dozen more unpleasant things. Merlin knew the man deserved it! But he hadn't, and now he wouldn't. His uncle had stopped, and Harry wasn't going to get into trouble just out of spite. 

Uncle Vernon backed into the kitchen without saying another word, slamming the door shut. 

Harry slowly lowered his wand, then looked down and knelt next to Hedwig, who hooted at him. At least she was alive. He put down his wand, making sure it stayed within easy reach, and carefully picked up the cage. Hedwig hooted softly at him, as she hopped and flapped to take her perch again, awkwardly with one of her wings hanging at a crooked angle. 

"The bastard," Harry choked, tears filling his eyes. However much he was hurting, he hadn't really cried until he saw Hedwig's injury. "It'll be all right, Hedwig, I'll take care of you. And we're never coming back here," he told her, blinking furiously.

He put her cage down gently, then, with some difficulty, turned his trunk right side up. The crack in the trunk's side was deep, but it would hold for a while, he hoped. He noticed with another great sigh of relief that his Firebolt was in one piece, only a few twigs had bent where books had landed on top of them. A number of books had cracked spines and bend pages, a few potion ingredients had spilled, but there seemed to be little serious damage, except to the trunk and, well, to himself and Hedwig. Fortunately, he'd not had anything hidden underneath the floorboards. The Dursleys never came into his room anymore and he'd kept everything in his trunk.

Of course, he could fix the trunk and other items with a simple spell, but now that the immediate danger had passed he didn't dare do magic. Magic could be tracked, and while he though his present situation would excuse him if anyone from the Ministry of Magic found him, they weren't the only ones who might show up to see what was happening. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he couldn't face Voldemort like this!

Still keeping his wand within reach, he took a spare belt out of the mess, hung it around his neck and stuck his wrist through it, supporting his broken right arm. Then he clumsily threw his books and other possessions into the damaged trunk. The lid wouldn't close all the way, but with only one arm he could use he would have to drag it anyhow, and nothing would spill. He took out another belt and used it to hang Hedwig's cage over his shoulder. Last of all, he stuffed his wand down his shirt. Then he picked up one end of his trunk and started dragging it off, through the back yard into the narrow alley behind the houses of Privet Drive. 


	4. Where to go?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**4. Where to go?**

He dragged the trunk down the block towards the main road. He was surprised that he didn't run into anyone, or, for that matter, than no one had come out to look at the racket. But their immediate neighbors had gone on vacation, most other people on Privet Drive would be at work, and their wives might be shopping or out running errands. When he was nearing the mouth of the alley he saw the traffic on Sunny street, a cross street of Privet Drive, and he stopped. 

Harry put his trunk down, eased Hedwig's cage off his shoulder, and sat down to catch his breath. He was gone from the Dursley's, but where to go now?

His first choice would've been The Burrow. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, he might've been there already, spending his summer with Ron. And Mrs Weasley would be able to take care of his injuries. But Mr and Mrs Weasley, and their older sons Bill and Charlie, were heavily involved in the war against Voldemort, and Dumbledore had forbidden Harry to stay with them this summer. Apart from the fact that the Weasleys would be extremely busy, he had deemed it too dangerous. There would be wards on the house, of course, but even with wards it wasn't a fortress. Voldemort hated the Weasleys almost as much as he hated Harry, and the Headmaster had been afraid that with all of them in one location, the temptation to attack would be too great for the Dark Lord.

Hermione's was out, too. Her parents were Muggles, and while their house was protected like Harry's had been, they'd have to send him to either a Muggle doctor or St. Mungo's, which he didn't want. Hermione herself was good with magic, best of their class and much better than a certain former Professor he could think of, but just to be sure he wasn't going to let anyone but a fully qualified witch or wizard touch his broken bones.

Then there was Sirius, but Harry wasn't even sure his godfather was still at Professor Lupin's place. Plus they would be busy with Voldemort as well, and if he couldn't stay with them during the summer while he was still in one piece, he certainly couldn't stay there when injured. He'd only be a burden to them.

The last option was really the only obvious answer: Hogwarts. It was the safest place Harry could think of, Madam Pomfrey would easily be able to patch him up, and with luck, he'd be able to stay there afterwards. Or if he couldn't remain, certainly Dumbledore would know the best place for him to go. 

Having made up his mind, Harry drew his wand out of his shirt. He knew only one way of getting there, and didn't like the risks. If the Knight Bus could see his signal, so could others. But he had to take the chance and hope it'd work. He got up, ready to jump out of the way if needed, and raised his wand. 

Nothing happened. 

Oh shit, of course, he had to raise his wand _hand_, not just his wand. He looked at his right arm, still supported by the belt, and cursed again. He took his wand into his right hand, carefully drew his arm out of the belt's loop, and with help of his good, left arm, awkwardly raised his right. 

Moments later, and with a large BANG, the Knight Bus appeared out of nowhere. Harry sighed with relief and gritted his teeth as he lowered his injured arm, sticking it through the loop of the belt again.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded… Whoa, what da 'ell 'appen'd to you? Harry, isn't it, or shou' I say Neville?" Stan Shunpike, the Knight Bus' conductor, said as he jumped down. 

"My uncle happened to me," Harry said. "Harry is fine. I want to go to Hogwarts."

Stan looked him over, frowning. "Are you sure you don't wanna go to St. Mungo's?" he asked. "'Choo ain't lookin' too good."

"I'm sure. Madam Pomfrey can take care of it," Harry said. He had started at Stan's reaction though –how bad did he look?

Stan nodded briskly. "Well, if y're sure, Hogwarts it is."

Harry reached for his trunk, but Stan stopped him. "'Choo git in, I'll git that."

"Thank you," Harry thanked him, and boarded the bus, sucking in his breath as his knee protested loudly at taking the steps.

Ernie Prang, the driver, reacted almost exactly like Stan had. When he heard where Harry wanted to go, and Stan had pulled the heavy trunk and Hedwig's cage safely onto the bus, he offered, "Usually we drop 'm off in the order we pick 'm up, but I reckon we'll make an exception in your case. Go have a bed, we'll be at Hogwarts in haf an hour or so."

Gratefully, and with help from Stan, Harry made his way to the nearest bed. Fortunately, there weren't many other passengers, and those who were present on this floor were asleep. Ernie waited until Harry sat down on the bed before driving off, another thing Harry was grateful for. After the jolt from the acceleration, Harry reached into his trunk to look for his money, but Stan stopped him. 

"No nee' fer that, boy, no' with the way you're lookin'. If we come up short, we'll sen' the bill to yer uncle."

For the first time since the incident, Harry grinned. He was on the Knight Bus, on his way to Hogwarts, and everything would be all right. 

AN: I know I'm having trouble getting Stan's accent right, and the people who sometimes beta a tricky chapter for me didn't know much about English accents either. I hope it came out kinda okay.


	5. Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**5. Hogwarts.**

Harry was sure it'd been less than thirty minutes when, with another large BANG, they appeared on the rocky road leading to Hogwarts. The bus stopped right in front of the large doors, and Stan jumped off, helping Harry down the steps and then going back for his trunk. He carried it all the way into the entrance hall without being asked. 

"Is there anythin' else you'll be needin' then?" he asked, before leaving. 

"No, thanks Stan, I'll be all right here. Thank you, and thank Ernie for me, too," Harry said. 

"Any time you need us, you know how to call us," Stan said, wove goodbye and left.

Harry watched the doors close, then suddenly he felt his knees wobble as the room started to spin. He'd kept going as long as he was on the road, but now he was finally here, in a safe place, his injuries caught up with him. He sat down on his trunk –Stan had managed to rearrange his stuff and more or less close the lid during the trip- and rested his head on his left hand. He'd just take a moment to catch his breath, then he would go to Dumbledore's office. At least he could leave his trunk and Hedwig here for the time being.

"Whhheeeeeeeeeeee, look who we got there, don't you know school doesn't start for another three weeks?" Peeves zoomed into the entrance hall.

Oh, no, Harry thought, looking up.

If Peeves was shocked at his appearance, he didn't show it. "What happened to you, tripped over your own feet coming here?" he asked, laughing gleefully.

"Oh, shut up!" Harry yelled, then grimaced as another wave of pain shot through his head. "I don't suppose you want to go get the Headmaster for me, at least leave me alone!"

Peeves looked at him thoughtfully for just a second, then broke into a large grin. "Oh, I can do that, I will get the Headmaster for you," he cackled. "Just wait here, I'll be right back!" He zoomed off. 

Harry frowned, sure Peeves was up to something. Or would the pesky poltergeist really go to Dumbledore? Not likely, but he needed a few moments anyhow to rest before he was up to walking halfway through the school. Harry regretted not asking Stan to get Dumbledore, the man would've been happy to help him. He hadn't thought of how empty the school was during the holidays, and there were at least six stairways between the entrance hall and the Headmaster's office. Harry could feel his knee protest at the very thought. Just another minute, then.

Professor Snape sat in his office in the dungeons, reading a book. Suddenly he heard a great racket outside the door. It sounded as if two suits of armor were fighting it out in the hallway. He jumped up, cursing.

"Peeves! Stop that right now," he yelled at the poltergeist, who hung in mid-air, holding about half the pots and pans from the kitchen. The other half was strewn along the hall.

"Had to do something to get your attention," Peeves said, looking hurt. "Since you don't seem to want me entering your dungeons."

Of course he didn't want the bloody ghost in his office or classroom, did the miserable spirit have any idea what kind of damage a poltergeist could do among his potion ingredients? Of course, Peeves didn't care, he lived to do damage. Existed to. Whatever. "You know damn well why you're not allowed in there. Now get lost or I'll put the same wards on this entire part of the school," Snape snapped.

"You can't do that, if you could you would have done so already," Peeves pointed out, as he dropped the rest of the pots on the ground with a clatter.

Snape glared at the poltergeist.

"But I'm not just here to throw some pots around, however much fun it is," Peeves continued. "I came to tell you there's someone here to see you. Or well, he's probably looking for Dumbledore, he asked for the Headmaster."

"Since when are you running errands for people?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Now, Professor, don't you want to know who it is?" Peeves returned innocently.

Snape gave up. "Okay, who is it?" he asked.

"Harry Potter!" Peeves laughed loudly, tumbling in the air out of glee. 

"_What?_ What's he doing here?" Snape asked sharply.

Peeves shrugged, which looked really strange because he was upside down in mid-tumble. "Didn't ask, perhaps he thinks summer is over already."

"And where is he now?" Snape asked.

"Entrance hall," Peeves replied, and looked affronted when Snape swept past him without another word. He bobbed after Snape. "Aren't you going to thank me for playing messenger?" he called.

Snape ignored the poltergeist, who drifted after him, cackling softly. He swept into the entrance hall, his robes billowing around him. From across the large room, he saw the boy sitting on his trunk, with his back towards him.

"Potter, what are you doing here, don't you know..," Snape started, then stopped as Harry got up and turned towards him, slightly bend over, leaning with his left arm on his trunk. The boy was a mess. His right eye was shut, a thick, purple bruise covering it. He held his right arm awkwardly in an improvised sling, and he seemed to be favoring one of his legs, due to another nasty bruise on his knee. 

No matter what Snape thought of Potter, he was shocked at what he saw. In a few large strides he crossed the intervening space and stopped in front of the boy, looking him over. 

"Not Voldemort," Snape stated. It wasn't a question, really –those weren't the types of injuries a magical fight would leave- but it had to be said. 

"My uncle," Potter replied, just as shortly. 

It wasn't difficult for Snape to read the boy's face, Potter was not happy to see him. Well, he wasn't happy to see Potter, either. Regardless, he would take care of him. "You must tell me what happened, but first we'll get you to the hospital wing."

"Ooooooooooooooh, how touching, Snape the nurse!" Peeves cut in from right behind him.

Snape whirled around. Potter flinched, but for once it wasn't the boy who was the target of his anger.

"Peeves, you have one second to disappear from my sight or I swear I will see you out of this castle for ever," he spat. And Merlin help him, he would. 

The poltergeist hung in the air for a fraction of a second, then disappeared with a loud POP. Snape turned back to Potter.

"Can you walk?" he asked briskly, ignoring the boy's wide-eyed expression.

Potter grimaced, but straightened and nodded. "Yes," he replied. 

He didn't look it, but if the boy wanted to be stubborn, so be it. 

"Then come along," Snape said.

Potter hung back, then pointed to the cage that stood on top of his trunk. "Hedwig's injured, too."

Snape glanced at the cage. He had never looked closely at Potter's owl before, but he knew she was a strong, good-looking bird. Now, however, one wing hung down at her side. Damn. Secretly, he approved of Potter's concern, a good owl was not something you treated carelessly. But he wasn't about to admit that out loud. 

"I'll see to her after we take care of you," he told the boy. "Now, hospital wing, I said." 

"Yes, sir," the boy gave in, and started to limp after him. 

Snape led the way. With an effort, he set a slow pace as he strode out of the hall.

They hadn't gone far when Potter caught up with him. "Uhm, Professor?" the boy cleared his throat. 

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked, trying, and failing, to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Hm, eh, where is the Headmaster?" Potter asked in a small voice. 

 Snape glared at the boy "He's not here," he replied. "He's meeting with the giants. Professor McGonagall is on the continent as well, contacting wizards in France and Germany. They'll be back just before school starts, I'm filling in until then."

"You?" Potter squeaked, dismay in his voice. "Eh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude," he stuttered.

"Look, Potter, stop pretending," Snape cut him off. "I don't like you and you don't like me, but you're here and we will fix you up. Now Madam Pomfrey isn't staying at Hogwarts either, but she is on call. I will contact her through the fire when we get to the hospital wing. We'll discuss what to do with you for the rest of the summer once she's taken care of your injuries." 

As Potter glanced sideways, he almost missed a trick step. Snape reached out and caught the boy's good arm as he stumbled. 

Potter's eyes flicked towards him. "Thanks," he muttered, so softly Snape could barely make it out. The rest of the way they walked in silence.


	6. Healing

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**6. Healing.**

Harry sighed in relief as they reached the hospital wing. Professor Snape led him to one of the beds and helped him up. 

"It's best when you sit up with your cracked ribs," Snape said briskly, and with a flick of his wand several large pillows from the other beds in the room flew to the bed and piled up behind Harry. 

Then the Potions Master opened one of the cabinets, taking out a vial of some green liquid. From another cabinet he took a small glass, and he tipped a small amount of the potion into it. 

"Drink this," Snape said. 

"What is it?" Harry asked. 

"I'm not going to poison you. It's a pain reliever," Snape snapped. "Now, take it or don't take it, but stay here while I contact Madam Pomfrey."

Harry drank the potion in one gulp. As with most magical potions, it started to work immediately. "Thank you, sir," he said, a little louder than before. 

Snape grunted something unintelligible and left the room through the other door, the one leading to Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry could hear him cast the Incendio spell to light the fire before the door closed.

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes when the door opened again and Madam Pomfrey emerged, carrying a large bag over her shoulder. Snape followed right behind her. She put the bag on the next bed and was at Harry's side in a flash, concern and anger in her face. Harry smiled with relief at her arrival. He was no longer worried, he knew her anger wasn't directed at him. Madam Pomfrey was always angry with those who had injured her patients. 

"Broken arm, concussion, black eye, two cracked ribs and a number of bruises," she said as she looked him over. "And that knee isn't looking too good. Your own _uncle_ did this to you?" 

"My cousin had an accident, but my aunt thought I'd hurt him. Then later Uncle Vernon came home and started beating on me. I ran off after he threw my trunk and Hedwig out of the window," Harry explained. 

Madam Pomfrey shook her head in disgust, then turned to open the bag she had brought. Harry noticed Snape frowning darkly, his eyes flashing with anger. 

"You'll have to tell us exactly what happened," he snarled. 

Madam Pomfrey stopped, a wad of cotton and a flask in her hands. "Not now, Severus. Go back to your office, I'll call you when you can speak with him." 

Snape looked like he was going to argue, but stopped. "Very well," he sighed, and turned. 

"Professor," Harry called after him. "Hedwig?" 

Snape turned back. "I won't forget her," he said shortly, and swept out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey poured some of the liquid from the flask she held onto the cotton, then approached Harry. "Hold still, this may sting a little," she said as she gently daubed it onto his scalp. 

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry started. "Ouch," he said then, as the liquid soaked into his skin. 

"Don't talk," Madam Pomfrey told him. 

The stinging quickly faded, and Madam Pomfrey took another piece of cotton with another liquid, held his eye closed and rubbed it over his face. Harry blinked his eye as the swelling melted away and vision returned. When Madam Pomfrey walked back over to her bag he started over. 

"He doesn't believe me either, does he?"

"Eh?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry questioningly. 

"Professor Snape. He doesn't believe I didn't do anything to my cousin," Harry said. 

Madam Pomfrey frowned. "He believes you," she said as she returned with her wand and tapped his right arm. "Sanos Ossis," she spoke, and Harry felt a tingling in his arm. As it, too, faded, he spoke again. 

"Oh, sure he does, then why was he so angry?" he pointed out.

Madam Pomfrey paused and looked up at Harry. "Look, I know Professor Snape sometimes is unfair with anyone who isn't in Slytherin."

Harry snorted. 

"Well, okay, more than sometimes," she conceded. "But no teacher at Hogwarts, not even Snape, would condone this," she swept her hand at Harry's injuries.

"If you're sure," Harry replied, doubtfully. 

Madam Pomfrey pulled up his shirt and repeated her spell on his ribs. "Sanos Ossis." The tingling repeated itself. "I am," she said. She put her wand down, picked up a clean piece of cotton and yet a third flask, and set to work on his knee.

Harry wasn't convinced, but he let it drop. "Who else is here at Hogwarts?" he asked instead.

"Just Professor Trelawney and Mr. Filch," Madam Pomfrey replied. "Everyone else is gone, even Professor Binns has gone home for the summer."

Harry couldn't hide his dismay. He had to spent three weeks with Professor Snape, Professor Trelawney, and Filch? 

"Can I stay here?" he asked, meaning the hospital wing, not just Hogwarts. 

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'll stay here tonight, but when I'm sure you are okay, I'll have to return home. I have a lot of work to do. Look, it won't be that bad. It is only for three weeks, and the ghosts are here too," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Don't tell me," Harry groaned. 


	7. Decisions

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**7.  Decisions.**

Professor Snape went straight to the entrance hall after leaving the hospital wing. He sent word to the house-elves to take Potter's trunk to the dormitory, then took the cage with the boy's owl to the Owlery.  

He put the cage down on a ledge and opened it. The snowy owl looked at him with distrust, squawked, and made as if to nip at him. 

"Easy, Hedwig," he said quietly. He reached in with calm confidence, and the bird allowed him to take her out. 

It would probably surprise Potter and his friends to learn that he was good with owls. But you couldn't take any points from an owl or give it detention, if you treated one harshly all that happened was that you ended up getting your fingers nipped. And an owl didn't care who you were or what you'd done with your life.

He gently stroked her until she stopped fidgeting, and only after she had settled down did he reach out to check her wing. It was a nasty break, but it could be healed. He took his wand out of his robes, pointing it at the large, white bird. 

"Volo Iterum," he spoke the charm, watching her carefully. He'd only needed this spell once before, owls didn't often get hurt. 

Hedwig shifted a bit on his wrist, then suddenly flapped her wings. 

"Easy there," he said, "You need to rest a bit yet before we'll let you fly." 

But he smiled, the spell had worked and her wing was mended.  

Hedwig settled as he told her to, and he returned her to her cage. He replaced her food and water and put her in a quiet spot of the Owlery, away from the many flight holes. 

He took one more look around the many rows of birds and was glad Raptor, his eagle owl, was not here to see him handle Potter's owl. With his additional Headmaster duties, he had to send far more owl post than any one bird could handle, but Raptor still felt rejected when he used the school owls. If there was one thing Snape didn't need right now, it was being scowled at by his own owl.

He walked back down to his office. Good, the house-elves had cleared away the mess Peeves had made. He sat down at his desk, closing the book he had left behind, and frowned.

He had considered sending Potter elsewhere, once Poppy cleared him from the hospital wing, but he found that, in the light of the developments with Voldemort, he couldn't. Albus would have his head if anything happened. Not that he himself would risk Potter falling in Voldemort's hands. He didn't wish that on anyone, not even Potter. If only the boy weren't _here._

But he was, and Snape would have to come up with a way to keep him occupied. The Potions Master knew he wasn't going to let Potter roam the school unsupervised all day long. The boy would likely get in all sorts of trouble, he'd broken more than enough school rules when all the staff was around to watch him. To be honest, the boy hadn't broken quite as many rules last year, but there was still no need to tempt him, letting him run around by himself for three weeks. 

The problem was, with only himself, Sybill Trelawney, and Filch, his options were limited. Snape doubted Filch would want to watch Potter any more than he did. And he couldn't make Potter spend his days with the divination teacher. Sybill would either forget all about the boy, or drive him so crazy with her predictions of doom that he was likely to break a few school rules just to get away from her. 

He sighed as he reached the decision he had been dreading. Like it or not, he would have to keep an eye on Potter himself. Then he glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and it looked like Poppy would let Potter sleep all night before calling him. He considered going to the hospital wing but decided against it. Even though she'd been a Hufflepuff, Poppy could be as stubborn as a Gryffindor when it came to her patients' rest. 

He took out a piece of parchment and picked up his quill. He'd have to inform Albus that Potter was here. Grimacing, he thought the Headmaster would likely find this situation extremely funny. Albus was always after him, chiding him for his obvious dislike of Potter, and would probably think it the greatest joke in the world that he'd be watching the boy for three weeks. Cursing his luck, Snape started to write.


	8. The first day

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**8. The first day.**

Harry woke up early and looked around. He knew instantly where he was, and laughed ruefully. He really had been in the hospital wing too often, if he'd lost his momentary disorientation at waking up in a strange place. He reached for his glasses, which were laying on the bedside table next to his wand, and put them on.

Almost immediately, the door opened and Madam Pomfrey came in. She carried a tray laden with breakfast. 

"Morning, Harry," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry replied. He certainly was a lot better. He could move everything, although his knee and arm were slightly stiff.

"Here, have something to eat," Madam Pomfrey told him. "I want to check you over when you are done, but take your time."

"Thank you," Harry smiled. He sat up in bed and dug in. The food was even better than usual, which was saying something. 

He had almost finished when Professor Snape entered. 

"Ah, you're awake," he said, then looked at the breakfast tray and called out, irritated. "Poppy! Why didn't you call me when Potter woke up?" 

Madam Pomfrey re-appeared from her office. "Let the boy eat his breakfast, Severus. There'll be plenty of time."

"I can talk," Harry said, putting aside the tray and swinging his feet out of bed. He had pretty much finished, and he didn't particularly relish eating with Professor Snape staring at him. 

Madam Pomfrey started forward as if to stop him from getting up. "Wait, I want to check you over first."

"Really, I'm fine," Harry interrupted her.

"He looks fine," Professor Snape said at exactly the same moment.

Harry glanced at Snape and saw Snape's eyes flicker toward him. They'd agreed on something? That was a first. Of course, Harry just wanted to get it over with. Which, he realised, was probably Snape's reasoning as well. 

Madam Pomfrey frowned at both of them, and relented. "In my office, then," she said.

Harry took care not to get up too quickly –a dizzy spell was the last thing he wanted- and followed Madam Pomfrey into her office. He still wore his shorts and T-shirt he had on when he arrived, and it made him feel more confident. It was a reminder that this wasn't the school year, and he doubted even Snape could take points from Gryffindor during the summer holidays.

He sat down in the chair Madam Pomfrey offered him. Professor Snape refused to take a seat, opting instead to lean against Madam Pomfrey's desk. Madam Pomfrey herself sat in her own chair behind it.

Over the next half hour, Harry told in every detail about Dudley's fit of rage and what had followed. Snape frequently interrupted him, sometimes asking for more detail, other times urging Harry on. Harry felt drained when he finally neared the end of his story.

"…and when they saw what I looked like, Ernie drove me straight here. Stan carried my trunk inside," Harry finished. "Will I be able to stay here?"

"Well, obviously you can't go back," Professor Snape replied. "And since there really isn't any place else you can safely go, you will have to stay here for the rest of the summer."

Harry looked at him warily. 

"But," Professor Snape continued, "I do not want you to run through the entire school for three weeks, not with your record of rule-breaking. You can of course stay at the Gryffindor dorms, I had your trunk brought there already. You can stay there in the mornings while I'm taking care of the Headmaster's duties. Afternoons you'll help me in the dungeons. The evenings are your own, but don't forget that all areas that are off-limits during the school year are still off-limits during the holidays. The library is off-limits as well until Madam Pince returns, if you need a book for your studies you can ask Mr. Filch. You'll take your meals in the Great Hall as always."

Harry swallowed, trying to hide his dismay. It would be great to stay here in the dormitory. He'd have peace and quiet for once in his life. But spent his afternoons with Professor Snape? That was horrible! He thought quickly, hoping to come up with an alternative. It was obvious Snape wouldn't trust him by himself for the entire three weeks, and the only others who were here were hardly better. Filch was out, for sure. Professor Trelawney was never mean to him, but Harry didn't think he could face three weeks with her dark predictions of doom. He couldn't think of anything else.

"I understand," he replied quietly. Then he thought of something else. "Can I do magic?" 

"Eh?" Professor Snape asked, and Harry felt a small flash of satisfaction when he realised Snape hadn't thought of everything. 

"I'd like to practice," Harry said. "I know I wasn't allowed to at home, but this is Hogwarts after all."

"Yes you can," Professor Snape decided. "But again, same restrictions as during the school year, and don't make me regret this."

"Thank you, sir, I won't," Harry replied sincerely. That, at least, would make the next weeks more bearable, even if he couldn't practice any complex spells; even during the school year they weren't allowed to practice any new and difficult spells or charms when no other students or teachers were around, just in case something went wrong. But he could brush up on some old spells, and truth to tell, doing any magic was great. It was the one thing he missed even when he had been staying at Ron's.

"And how is Hedwig? Can I go up to the Owlery and see her?" Harry asked, feeling guilty he hadn't thought of her sooner. 

"She'll be fine. You can let her out of her cage tomorrow evening, but don't send her on any errands yet. And yes, you can go see her," Snape replied. Was it Harry's imagination or did he not sound as harsh as usual?

"If there's nothing else," Madam Pomfrey put in when neither Harry nor Snape spoke, "I still want to do a full check-up on you, Harry. And you'll stay in your rooms today and rest. No work today. Potions and spells do most of the healing, but a part of it comes from within, too."

Professor Snape glared briefly at her, then looked at Harry. 

"If you have any questions, come see me," he said. "Otherwise, see you at dinner."

Harry nodded, and Professor Snape left the office. 

Madam Pomfrey didn't take long to examine Harry. "Everything seems to be fine. However, I do want you to rest, this little conversation this morning has already cost you way too much. Don't do anything strenuous. As a matter of fact, I think I'll have your meals sent to the dormitory today," she told him.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Harry answered, glad to have the whole day for himself. "I guess there is no chance you can remain here?" 

"I'm sorry, Harry," Madam Pomfrey replied. "I'll come and check up on you tomorrow evening. Oh, and before I forget, I don't want you to fly until all stiffness is gone from your arm and knee. It should take about a week."

Harry's face fell, he had looked forward to flying his Firebolt on the Quidditch pitch. But he knew Madam Pomfrey well enough to know it was useless to argue.

After ensuring her he really would be careful and rest, he left the hospital wing.

Harry did feel tired after Professor Snape's grilling, but he stopped by the Owlery on his way to the Gryffindor rooms. It wasn't that far out of the way and he had to see Hedwig no matter what. 

Hedwig hooted at him, and he fed her an owl treat. She tried to fly out of the cage, but he held her back. "Sorry, Hedwig, but we're both supposed to stay in for today," he told her. She settled back down, looking slightly annoyed, and Harry gave her another owl treat before he left to go to his room.

As he walked, he realised he didn't know if the password would still be the same it had been last year. But he need not have worried. The Fat Lady swung open as he approached. 

"Harry! I'm so glad to see you are okay, Violet told me you came in last night looking terrible!" she exclaimed. Of course. The portraits had a habit of visiting eachother, and it shouldn't surprise Harry that the Fat Lady had known of his arrival at Hogwarts.

"I'm much better, thank you," Harry replied. 

"Harry! So good to see you!" came another greeting as Nearly Headless Nick floated up to him. 

Harry smiled broadly as he returned the welcome. At least some people were happy to see him. Okay, not quite people by Muggle standards, but that didn't matter.

"I don't mean to pry, but I'd just love to hear what happened," the Fat Lady said. 

"Yes, me too," Nearly Headless Nick put in. 

"Well, okay," Harry replied. "Can you come to one of the paintings inside? I'd like to sit down, it's quite a long story."

"Wonderful! Yes, I can, since there'll not be anyone who needs to be let in. But first let me call Violet over, she'd never forgive me if I didn't," the Fat Lady said. She flitted to the next painting. 

Harry grinned again as he climbed through the hole. Moments later, the Fat Lady entered one of the paintings, followed by Violet. She, too, greeted Harry heartily. 

Harry took a seat and told his story for the second time that day, this time interrupted many time by exclamations of shock and sympathy from the two portraits and Nick. 

By the time he was done, it was almost lunch time. 

"Oh, do you want to set a password?" the Fat Lady asked before she went back to her own frame. 

"I can?" Harry asked. He hadn't thought that would be allowed, only prefects could change and set the password. Well, and the staff of course.

"Well, yes, why not. You're the only one here now. You can use anything you like," she replied.

Harry thought quickly. "I'll make it 'Golden Snitch'."

"You got it," the Fat Lady replied, and disappeared to her own painting outside.

Harry made to go up to his room, but before he had crossed the common room Dobby appeared, carrying a tray with his lunch. 

"Dobby is so glad to see Harry Potter is doing better!" the house elf exclaimed. "Dobby heard that Harry Potter was injured!"

"Yes, Dobby, that's right," Harry replied, smiling at the house elf. "Madam Pomfrey fixed me right back up though."

"Dobby is happy to hear that," he squeaked, "Dobby was so worried about Harry Potter, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let Dobby in to see Harry. Dobby came here to bring Harry's lunch in person so he could make sure Harry was okay. Harry will be staying here now?"

"I'm never going back to the Dursleys," Harry replied fervently.

"The Dursleys they did this to Harry Potter?" Dobby asked indignantly. "The Dursleys hurt Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded. "My uncle did."

"Then the Dursleys are bad, bad people!" Dobby stated. "Harry Potter is right that he should not return to them!"

Harry reflected wryly that a few years earlier, Dobby had gone through considerable lengths to make sure he would remain with his family for ever, but he didn't feel like pointing it out. After all, the house elf couldn't possibly have known just how 'bad' the Dursleys really were. Hell, this last outburst had even surprised Harry himself. 

"Don't worry, I won't," he replied instead.

"Oh!" Dobby squeaked suddenly. "Here Dobby is talking and talking and still holding Harry's food, Dobby is a bad house elf, please forgive Dobby, Harry Potter, sir!"

"It's okay, Dobby," Harry said, taking the tray. "It looks delicious, thank you."

"Harry Potter is too generous," Dobby stuttered. "If Harry needs anything, anything at all, Harry must come down to the kitchens, and Dobby will get it for him."

"Thank you, Dobby, I will," Harry replied sincerely, and Dobby hurried out of the room.

Harry couldn't possibly eat everything Dobby had brought him, there was enough for three people, but he gave it a good try. When he really couldn't eat another thing, he yawned, and realised just how tired he was.

He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, which he usually shared with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean. His trunk stood at the foot of his bed, his school robes folded and neatly stacked in the cabinet against the wall. He recognised Dobby's hand by the way all his socks were miss-matched. His books were in his trunk, with his cloak and all other magical items, the Firebolt on top. He glanced at the bent twigs, and he was tempted to take out his broomstick servicing kit and work on it, but decided to wait. He would have time enough for that later, he wasn't allowed to fly yet anyhow.

Putting his wand on top of the cabinet and kicking his shoes off, he lay down on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

He didn't wake up until dinner time. After another elaborate meal, he felt refreshed. He took everything out of his trunk and inspected the crack. Picking up his wand, he pointed it at the trunk. 

"Reparo," he said.

Instantly, the crack in the trunk closed up, as it was supposed to. Magic really was wonderful, especially so after several weeks of doing without!

Next, Harry took his Muggle clothes and put them on the bottom. Then he went through his books, sorting them by subject and smoothing creased pages and covers. He checked his quills, fixed a couple that were bend, and inspected his ink jars for cracks. Next he went through his potion ingredients, fixing a few cracked vials with spello-tape. It was never a good idea to use a spell, even a simple one like Reparo, on flasks of potion ingredients unless you were absolutely sure there'd be no nasty side-effects. Last of all, he returned his invisibility cloak, Marauder's Map, and pocket Sneakoscope to his trunk. He left his Firebolt until the next morning.


	9. To the dungeons

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**9. To the dungeons.**

After sleeping most of the previous day, Harry woke up early. He got dressed, this time in his school robes. No matter if it was summer vacation, he didn't think showing up in his shorts and T-shirt would be a good idea. He went down for breakfast and was relieved to find that however early he was, Professor Snape had been even earlier, and was gone already. What he didn't like was that the large house tables were gone and there was only one table in the middle of the Great Hall. Whenever Snape was there, he would have to take a seat with the Potions Master.

After breakfast, and another quick visit to Hedwig, Harry went to his room and set to work on the Firebolt. It was the first time he had the opportunity to really use the broomstick servicing kit he had received from Hermione two years ago; up until now his broom had held up wonderfully and had only needed an occasional polishing. 

He took his time, carefully straightening the bend twigs by hand, then reinforcing them with a charm from the manual. When he was satisfied, he polished the entire handle until it looked brand new.

Next, he sat down on his bed with the unfinished letters to Ron and Hermione he had been writing when Uncle Vernon had come in. He smoothed the creased parchment, then added another entire page, telling them all that had happened since his uncle so violently interrupted him.

The morning was just about over when he finished. Taking the letters with him, he did not go to the Owlery but to the kitchens, where he asked Dobby to mail them using school owls. He felt bad enough for Hedwig already, and he didn't want to use the school owls right in front of her. 

Then he went to the Great Hall for lunch. This time, Snape was there.

"There you are. How are you feeling?" Only Professor Snape could make an inquiry to his health sound like a curse.

"Fine, thank you," Harry tried to sound cheerful, but failed. 

"Good," Professor Snape replied, ignoring Harry's tone of voice. "You will come down with me after we eat, as I told you."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered.

Professor Snape did not speak again during their meal, and neither did Harry. Finally, Snape got up and Harry followed. 

In the dungeons, Harry followed Professor Snape through the empty classroom into his office and private lab. 

Professor Snape walked up to a door in the back wall of the lab and softly spoke a password Harry didn't catch. 

"There is a large jar of mermaid scales that needs to be sorted," Snape said, stepping aside and pointing toward the open door. "Sort them by color, and make sure they don't have any nicks or scratches."

Harry was taken aback. He couldn't remember anyone ever being allowed into the store room itself. But as Professor Snape gestured impatiently, he walked in. The room was quite a bit bigger than he had expected. He looked in awe at row upon row of vials, jars and bottles. Where was he going to find mermaid scales among all these? He looked around in confusion, reading a few of the labels on the ingredients. He was about to turn back and ask Professor Snape, when he suddenly saw how the system worked. Magical ingredients like unicorn horn, dragon fangs and goblin blood were on the right hand wall, non-magical items like frog eyes, cat whiskers and caterpillars were on the left. Behind him, on both sides of the door, were racks of prepared potions. And he wasn't entirely sure, but he thought the items against the back wall were all rare items that needed special care and handling. The items were alphabetised among their own category.

Now that he knew where to look he quickly spotted the mermaid scales and took the jar into Snape's lab. To his surprise, Professor Snape did not yell at him for taking so long to retrieve the jar. Instead, he looked thoughtful and distracted. 

"Here are some empty vials for you to use," Professor Snape said as he looked at Harry again, and handed him a tray of glasswork.

Harry set to work and to his surprise found it was not an unpleasant task. The mermaid scales were beautiful in color and texture, and it was easy to sort them.

After a while he looked up and frowned, puzzled at what he saw. Earlier, Professor Snape had set up two cauldrons, which seemed to be simmering. Meanwhile, he was gutting a large pile of horned toads. Harry stared, stopping his own work. 

After a few moments, Snape looked up.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked. 

Harry started out of his reverie. "Eh, I was just wondering," he stuttered, "Why are you gutting toads while you let me do this?"

"This isn't detention, Potter. No need to let you do all the dirty work. Unless you want to," Snape replied, gesturing at the greenish mess in front of him.

"No, not at all," Harry said quickly.

"Well, then. Back to work," Snape told him shortly.

Harry nodded and turned his attention back to the mermaid scales.

When he was done, Professor Snape handed him a large wad of centaur hair, instructing him to put a small amount in forty small vials. After that, he counted out frog eyes for the third year cough relief potion. None of the work was particularly unpleasant, but Harry thought he'd soon be bored to death if counting and sorting was all he'd get to do. But he didn't complain, considering there were many far worse things Snape could make him do.

Eventually, Snape looked up and announced it was time for dinner. 

Professor Snape checked Potter's work, put away the potions he had brewed and finished by cleaning his lab table. He closed the door to the stores and stood for a moment gazing reflectively. Obviously, he'd sent Potter into the store room without telling him how it was ordered on purpose. He had watched carefully, and unless the boy was a much better actor than Snape gave him credit for, Potter had never been in the room before. Of course, that likely meant he'd sent one of his friends to get the Gillyweed for him, last winter. Snape wasn't sure what he thought about that. It was exactly what a Slytherin would do, but letting others take the risk didn't fit Potter. Well, he wouldn't find out more today.

He looked over to where Potter was cleaning the table he'd been working on, conscientiously scrubbing away an old stain Longbottom had made during one of his detentions. It'd been left when Snape had lost his patience and sent the boy out before he would give him another detention. He was never sure whom he punished more with those, Longbottom or himself. Contrary to what most students thought, he didn't enjoy giving detentions, not when it meant having to watch every single move the clumsy oaf made to keep him from blowing the entire place to smithereens. Even when he set him to cleaning Longbottom frequently managed to make a bigger mess, knocking things over or spilling suds. Now why was Potter cleaning it up? He must've noticed it was there when he got here. 

"That is acceptable," he said grudgingly as Potter finished. 

Potter looked up briefly, then replied simply, "Thank you, sir."

Damn, why did the boy have to be so agreeable?

Harry ate his meal in silence. He was used to not taking part in the conversation at the Dursleys, nor had theirs been very interesting to listen to, but at least it had been conversation of a sort. Sitting here in the Great Hall, with nothing but the sound of the two of them eating, was driving him nuts. Finally, he summoned up the courage to start a conversation. He was _not_ going to spent the entire three weeks eating in utter silence.

"Professor Snape?" he ventured.

Professor Snape looked up. "What is it?" he asked.

"How come you're the only one here?" Harry asked. Seeing Snape frown, he thought it was probably not the best thing he could've started off with, but he could hardly take it back now. He quickly added, "I mean, I would've thought, you'd be the most likely to be…"

"He found out," Snape replied curtly. There was no need to say who, and Snape volunteered no more information.

Harry kept looking at Snape, and when no more came, he asked, "How?"

After another long pause, Snape replied. "He told me about a raid he planned on a Muggle school. Only Voldemort, Wormtail, Malfoy and I knew about it. It was either thwart their plan, or watch several hundred Muggle children burn to death in a building with the exits blocked."

Harry blinked. He'd seen the Muggle news report about the blaze that had completely destroyed a large primary school, coincidentally just as a fire drill was held and all the kids were outside, gathered on the sports fields and in the parking lot. Come to think of it, his scar had hurt, but not badly. Probably because there'd been no one who died. 

"That was Voldemort?" he exclaimed. 

"You really should read the paper more often," Snape berated him.

"And have it delivered to the Dursleys? That'd have gone over well," Harry pointed out, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

Snape paused a moment, considering. "No, I guess not," he admitted.

Professor Snape turned his attention back to his plate, and Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. He quickly finished his dinner and excused himself. At least the thought of papers delivered reminded him of the fact that Hedwig was allowed out of her cage tonight. He felt more cheerful as he left the Great Hall.

Harry hurried to the Owlery and was greeted by Hedwig's hooting. He opened the cage and handed her a treat. She affectionately nipped his fingers, then plucked at his robe pockets until he gave in and handed her a second one. 

"Go on, you can fly again, Hedwig," Harry told her. 

He watched her as she spread her wings and, circling once around him, flew out through one of the many openings of the Owlery wall. 

As she disappeared, he considered waiting for her. Nah, she'd looked healthy as ever, and after being cooped up for two days she might be gone an hour or more. He cleaned her cage –he wouldn't need it again any time soon, it was only for transport or, of course, for the Dursleys- and then hurried to the hospital wing when he saw it was time for his appointment with Madam Pomfrey.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't there yet when Harry entered the hospital wing, but she arrived soon after, brushing the soot from the floo system off with a brush. 

"How are you doing, Harry?" she asked as she checked him over.

"Fine," Harry replied. "A little stiff in the morning, but that cleared up soon enough."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "That was to be expected. It'll take a few days for it to go away completely. Not feeling too tired?"

Harry shook his head. "Not today. I slept all yesterday afternoon, though."

"Well, I did tell you to rest, it's nice to see my instructions are heeded for once," Madam Pomfrey remarked sternly, but she smiled as she spoke.

Harry grinned. "Yes Ma'am," he replied smartly.

"And how was the rest of your day?" Madam Pomfrey asked, more serious now.

"Okay," Harry replied noncommittally. He'd done his best to get along, and while he could hardly call Snape friendly, neither had the Potions Master snapped his head off, which was about all Harry could hope for.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said. "I will be back on Saturday to make sure the last of the stiffness is gone. If all goes well I will allow you to fly after that. If you need me before then, you can contact me using the floo system. There is powder on the mantelpiece."

Harry thanked her and walked back to the dormitory, where he spent the evening reading and chatting with Nearly Headless Nick, who dropped by to see how he was doing.


	10. A quiet week

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**10. A quiet week.**

Harry's third day at Hogwarts started like the last. He ate breakfast alone, and dropped by the Owlery to check on Hedwig. She flew down when he arrived, looking content as ever. 

Afterwards, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room. He meant to continue his transfiguration essay, the one he had been working on three days ago. He quickly realised he didn't have his book, and cursed. It had to be left in his room, probably kicked underneath the bed or something. Well, he would have to buy a new one, he wasn't going to go back for it, nor did he think it likely his uncle would send it to him. He could easily afford to replace it, the bad thing was that he had made a lot of notes in the book which would be more difficult to recover. And he would have to re-do the entire essay. Damn, he had been almost done, too. With a big sigh, he started on History of Magic instead. 

Lunch was another quiet meal. Harry didn't know anything to say except that Madam Pomfrey had dropped by, as agreed, the previous night. Professor Snape's reply had been "Good." Harry was glad when lunch was over.

That afternoon, Professor Snape had him dice dried speckle mushrooms, and make an extract of blight berries. 

The work was simple again, and Harry was glad there was no one to distract him. He worked quickly and kept his mind from wandering. Even so, the only thing Snape said when they were done was "Okay." Of course, coming from Snape, and unless you were a Slytherin, that was a compliment. 

Harry was once again at a loss to start a conversation during dinner, and he was extremely glad when Nearly Headless Nick dropped by again that evening, together with The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost. 

The next day, Wednesday, Pig flew in when Harry was eating breakfast, followed almost immediately by a school owl carrying a return message from Hermione. Harry retrieved the letters and fed both owls a treat. The school owl ruffled its feathers as Ron's little, overexcited owl fluttered around them. Harry read Ron's letter first. 

_What a bummer! First those horrible Muggles throw you out and then you end up at Hogwarts with that git? I asked my father if you could come here but he said it was too dangerous. But if you really can't stand it, run away and come to the Burrow, mom will be mad but she'll let you in regardless._

_                                                                                                              Ron._

Harry grinned. Ron's advise was well-meant but not very practical, he could hardly run off here and return when school started. He opened Hermione's letter.

_Harry, I am so glad you are okay after what your uncle did to you! He could have killed you. And what a lousy luck to find Dumbledore is gone for the summer and Snape is in charge. Try to stay out of trouble and get along. At least you will have plenty of time to do your homework and study, with the O.W.L'.s coming up, this summer may yet be good for something._

_                                                                                                              Hermione._

As Harry read her letter he smiled. Exactly like Hermione, to think of the O.W.L.'s already. But she did give good advice, he had been trying his best to get along and stay out of trouble. 

He wrote a brief note in reply to both of them, assuring them he was doing okay so far. Then he spent the rest of the morning reading his Muggle fantasy book, doing homework and he received another visit from Dobby.

He was still with his mind on the book he'd read when he went to lunch.

"Today I want you to work on some antidotes," Snape announced. 

Harry started, after the past two days he hadn't expected any conversation. 

"Antidotes?" he asked. "What kind?"

"Pretty much any kind," Snape replied. "Apart from the obvious, protection against poisons of many kinds, for each class I must not only stock the antidote for the potion itself but also for the most common screw-ups."

Harry blinked in surprise. Most of the time, people who had accidents in Potions class were sent to the hospital wing, but Harry also knew Madam Pomfrey didn't brew most of her own potions she used. Of course, Snape would have to make sure she had the antidotes to work with. And more than once Harry had seen Snape use some antidote on the spot. But multiple antidotes for every class?

"I never realised," Harry said. 

"Most of them go unused. Even in your class, although Longbottom has prompted me to make an even broader selection than I used to. The boy can come up with entirely new poisonous substances and his brews have the most interesting side-effects," Snape remarked. 

Suddenly, Harry remembered something. "Professor, does that mean, that time with Trevor..?" 

"Trevor?" Snape looked puzzled. 

"Neville's toad," Harry explained. "When you made him test that shrinking potion on it, and restored it when it became a tadpole, did you carry an antidote for the poison, too?"

Snape snorted. "Of course. I can't go around killing student's pets, no matter how worthless and non-magical they are. I just tried to scare Longbottom, hoping he would learn to pay attention to what he was doing. Unfortunately, his record hasn't improved since then."

"Ehm, excuse me for saying this, but isn't it possible Neville makes more mistakes because he is nervous? He is scared to death of you," Harry ventured. 

Snape did not answer immediately, and Harry silently cursed himself. It probably hadn't been a good idea to question Snape's teaching methods. Wouldn't he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?

To his surprise, Snape continued, "I am well aware of how afraid Longbottom is of me, especially since your third year."

Harry flinched. He remembered the boggart all too well, and while it had seemed extremely funny at the time, he could see how it had been less amusing for Snape.

"It still suits me better than to try and keep my patience through all his fumblings," Snape added, ignoring Harry's reaction.

"It was just a suggestion," Harry shrugged.

"Be nice to him and hold his hand? That's what Professor McGonagall has been doing in Transfiguration. Last I heard, Longbottom isn't allowed to practice on live animals anymore," Snape remarked.

"That is true," Harry had to admit. 

"The world would be a better place if Longbottom were a total squib," Snape went on. "At least a squib can live a normal life in the Muggle world. Whereas a wizard who can do magic, but can not control it, is a danger to himself and those around him."

Harry blinked again. He almost blurted out that that was really harsh, Neville was so glad he could do some magic, even if he wasn't good at it. But he stopped himself and thought about it. He was sure Neville would never hurt anyone on purpose. But the teachers and Madam Pomfrey had their hands full with him. And not all wizards learned, Harry remembered the Weasleys telling him about the couple that had tried to apparate and spliced themselves, and he had heard of other instances, too. Would Neville just continue the way he was going after school, providing the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad with loads of work picking up the pieces? Harry liked Neville, and he _hoped_ it wouldn't turn out like that, but… 

"I see what you mean," he said aloud.

"So you can think before you speak," Snape observed.

"Sometimes," Harry replied truthfully.

The afternoon was actually pleasant. Harry started with a simple, generic anti-poison, then while it simmered he cut and powdered ingredients for a potion that cleared the airways of various noxious fumes. It was secure work, but Harry found it easier to concentrate than when he had done only counting and sorting jobs. To his surprise, the afternoon flew by.

So did the next two days. Snape was not nearly as harsh as usual. Harry had to ask a few questions, and instead of snapping the answer or telling Harry off for not knowing everything, Snape explained what needed to be done and why. 

Before he knew it, it was weekend, and Harry would have two entire days to himself.


	11. A weekend with elves, ghosts and broomst...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**11. A weekend with elves, ghosts and broomsticks.**

On Saturday, Harry slept late, then went outside for a walk. He regretted he couldn't go to Hogsmeade, but of course that was outside the wards. He would have to remain on the Hogwarts grounds. He walked past the greenhouses, up to the lake shore, around Hagrid's house, and finally threw a longing look at the quidditch pitch. Hopefully he would be able to fly again tomorrow. He wasn't too worried, his knee had not felt stiff at all the past two mornings and it also held up well to his walk of today. 

It was still quite hot, which caught him by surprise. In the castle it was always cool, and the dungeons were downright chilly regardless of the weather outside. When he returned to the castle he was quite thirsty and he dropped by the kitchens for a drink.

The halls felt wonderful after the hot summer sun, and Harry quickly arrived at the fruity painting. He tickled the pear and the door swung open. 

As always, Dobby was delighted to see him. 

"Of course Dobby has something for Harry Potter," the house-elf said excitedly. "What does Harry Potter want?"

"Some really cold pumpkin juice would be great," Harry replied.

Dobby rushed off and returned seconds later with a large pitcher of pumpkin juice, condensation on the pitcher showing it was indeed ice cold. He poured a cup for Harry.

Harry drank it all in one gulp and Dobby quickly refilled his cup without being asked. This time, Harry drank more slowly.

"So how are you doing, Dobby?" Harry asked, realising he had only talked about himself when Dobby had come to the Gryffindor rooms. 

Dobby blinked. "Dobby is doing great, Harry Potter! Dobby is very lucky to have such a great place to work and such great, generous friends like Harry Potter." 

"And Winky, is she still here?" Harry asked, blushing a little at Dobby's words.

Dobby's face fell. "Winky is here, but Winky is not feeling good," he replied sadly.

"Is she still drinking Butterbeer?" Harry asked.

Dobby shook his head. "No, sir, Dobby is making sure Winky can not get Butterbeer anymore. But Winky is, well, Winky is feeling bad about last year. Winky feels she put Harry Potter in danger. Winky won't see Harry, Winky hides when you come in."

Harry sighed. He felt bad for the little house-elf. 

"I don't blame her, Dobby," he said. "Please tell her for me. Or ask her to come out, I would like to tell her myself."

Dobby hesitated, but Winky solved his dilemma. She shyly emerged from behind one of the large stoves. 

She looked unkempt, stains on her shabby skirt and streaks of dirt on her face, but not as terrible as when she had been drunk, too.

"Winky heard Harry Potter, and Winky will not disobey when Harry wants to speak to her," she said, her voice trembling. "Winky is a very bad house-elf already, Winky will not make it even worse."

"You are not a bad elf, Winky," Harry said kindly. 

"But Winky is! Winky is a bad, bad house-elf!" Winky called out. "First Winky failed her master, then when Headmaster Dumbledore was so good as to take her in Winky failed again by not telling him what Winky knew! Now Cedric Diggory is dead and Harry Potter was hurt and it's all Winky's fault!"

Harry flinched. He carried his own feelings of guilt, and he'd had many nightmares about that terrible day. Still, he would do what he could to reassure Winky. He knelt so he was level with the small house-elf.

"Winky, it is not your fault. It was Vo..-You-Know-Who. He uses a lot of people, he's used a lot of older wizards too. It is not your fault or mine or anyone else's but You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters." 

He had to keep telling himself that, too. It had been him who had suggested they take the Cup together.

"Are you sure?" Winky asked in a small voice.

"Positive," Harry replied. "You couldn't help but serve your masters, and I know how hard it is for a house-elf to speak bad of their masters even after they're gone from their service."

Winky fell to her knees. "Harry Potter is too generous, Harry Potter is too good!"

Harry looked down on her, embarrassed. "I mean what I said," he muttered, then got up and quickly excused himself. He hoped he had helped her a little, but he felt extremely uncomfortable when she –or Dobby for that matter- did that.

Harry had just left the kitchen when he ran into Peeves. The poltergeist was taking one of the many suits of armor apart, and when he spotted Harry he started to throw the pieces at him. After Winky, Harry was not in the mood.

"Stop it, Peeves," he said.

"Or what?" Peeves asked "No magic allowed in the corridors."

"So who'd you complain to, Snape?" Harry shot back, taking out his wand. Until recently he wouldn't have said that, but he was pretty sure Snape would not mind overtly much if he used magic against Peeves. The poltergeist had been very quiet all week after Snape's outburst. 

Peeves pouted. 

"I'm bored," he complained. But he did stop throwing the pieces of armor.

Harry shrugged. "Not my problem."

"You're no fun," Peeves stated, then zoomed off.

Harry sighed, put away his wand and started to pick up the pieces of armor. He was putting them back together when he became aware of Filch, standing a little ways down the hall.

"I didn't take it apart," Harry said, defensively.

"I know, I saw," Filch said grudgingly. 

He paused and Harry went on with the armor. 

"Why are you putting it together?" Filch asked.

Harry shrugged. At any other time he would've left it, why was he cleaning up after Peeves? 

"I guess I'm a little bored, too," he said.

He put the helmet back, replaced the visor, then picked up a few smaller pieces of the gloves. When he replaced the last piece, he found Filch still staring at him.

"Why didn't you tell people I'm a squib?" Filch asked. 

"Eh?" Harry asked, confused.

"You know. You saw the letter your second year. Yet you never told the rest of your house, or they would've made more fun of me," Filch said impatiently.

"Why should I have done that?" Harry asked, puzzled. 

"Because you hate me," Filch replied.

Harry hesitated. Usually he would've tried to deny that, after all you couldn't simply say you hated someone who had the power to give you detention or take house points away. But it was different now than during the school year. 

"I don't like you, but that has nothing to do with whether you can do magic or whether your parents could, that kind of thing never mattered to me," he said.

Filch frowned, his eyes narrowing. "You know, boy, you are too damn honest. Be careful that doesn't land you in any more trouble."

"You did ask," Harry pointed out.

"True, that," Filch admitted. 

He turned as Mrs Norris sauntered into the hall.

"Yes, my sweet, I will follow you to where you found the Pixie," Filch addressed the cat and turned, not bothering to say a word of goodbye to Harry.

"Mr. Filch?" Harry called after him.

"What?" Filch turned again and sounded annoyed.

Harry flinched but did not back off. "You could not possibly have heard her at that distance. How do you always know where she is, without magic?"

Filch glared at him, then almost smiled as he looked down at Mrs Norris, who was rubbing against his ankles. He scowled again as he looked back up at Harry.

"I just listen to what she tells me. It has nothing to do with magic. Most wizards can't be bothered to listen to a cat either. Their loss." he said scornfully. 

Then he turned around and stalked off. Mrs Norris ran out ahead of him, tail straight up in the air. 

After dinner, Harry went to the infirmary for his check-up. Madam Pomfrey was already in her office. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Fine," Harry assured her. Of course, he wanted to fly again, but he did not have to lie, he really had been feeling as good as ever. 

"No stiffness in the morning?"

"Not anymore. I took a walk this morning too and felt just fine," Harry replied.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, looking satisfied. Then she frowned. "And other than that, is everything going well?"

She didn't say anything specific, but of course she didn't have to. 

"Much better than I had expected," Harry allowed. "I even spoke with Filch today and he didn't take my head off."

"That's good to hear," Madam Pomfrey said. "You will be alright for another two weeks then?"

Harry nodded. He was still looking forward to the end of summer vacation, when he would see his friends again, but he found he did not dread the coming weeks like he had.

"I'll be fine. And… I can fly again, can't I?" 

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Yes, you can. Just be careful when you're alone out there, don't try any stunts or anything."

"I understand, I won't," Harry promised.  

It wasn't that late when Harry left the infirmary, so he ran upstairs, grabbed his Firebolt, and not much later he was flying around the Quidditch pitch. It was a little cooler at this time of the day, and the wind whipped his hair and his robes. He let out a whoop of joy. It was great to be flying again!

Professor Snape had spent his weekend the way he spent most of his weekends, working. He did not remember when he had last voluntarily taken part in any leisure activities. He cared little for pastimes as walking, riding a broomstick, or even chess –the latter was interesting enough but required a partner to play against. He did enjoy reading potions texts, either one of his many rare and ancient volumes or one of the new publications he was subscribed to. But that fell under work, in a way. He owned a large collection of fiction as well, but he had not found the peace of mind to read anything like that for many years. The few times he'd tried, he found his mind started to wander in ways he didn't like, and he had quickly exchanged the novel for one of his text books again.

A good part of this particular weekend had been spent answering owls from students and parents. Of course, that could be done on Monday, but the owls arrived at any day of the week and he might as well get the replies out as soon as possible. No doubt there would be plenty more tomorrow, even something as simple as the book list seemed to be too difficult for many students to understand.

And now the weekend was almost over. He sat down at the table just as Potter came rushing in. The boy looked flustered and his hair was still wet. Although that was an improvement, at least when it was wet it did sort of stay down. 

"Evening, Professor," Potter said as he sat down.

Snape grunted in acknowledgement. The boy was too cheerful by half. Then, why shouldn't he be, it was summer and he'd just had the entire weekend to himself. 

The food appeared on the table, and they started to eat. Potter ate like he was starving, too. Probably had been outside flying all day. At least he was not getting in any trouble when he kept himself busy. Come to think of that, so far, Potter had been quite well-behaved. He'd seen quite a lot of the boy all week and it had gone much better than he'd expected. Snape did not like small talk, but perhaps he could show an interest.

"So how was your weekend?" he asked. 

Potter started momentarily, but made no effort to hide his enthusiasm as he answered. "Great, sir! Madame Pomfrey allowed me to fly again so I've been out most of the day. At least this year I won't be totally out of practice when the season starts."

Wonderful. As if the boy needed more practice to beat every other team, including the Slytherins. Snape frowned, and Potter hesitated. 

"I am sure Draco will practice a lot too," he added. 

"No doubt," Snape replied dryly. 

Actually, he did doubt it. Yes, Draco would be flying all summer. The grounds of Malfoy manor were extensive and there was plenty of room to ride a broom without being seen by Muggles. But serious practice? Not likely. Draco was a real Slytherin, he liked to use his father's money to buy him a broomstick and a position on the team, and Snape did not think there was anything wrong with that. If you had the money and power, you were a fool not to use it. But Draco often forgot –or ignored- that money wasn't everything. To really come out on top, often a lot of hard work was needed as well. 

"Did you ever play?" Potter was asking now.

Did the boy care or was he just making conversation? Not that it really mattered.

"I was a Chaser on the house team for five years," he replied. And he hadn't been too bad at it either. He might actually have made a difference if only that damn James Potter hadn't always caught the Snitch so fast that no one could possibly score more than fifteen times. He resisted the urge to point this out to Potter. Last year –last week- he would not have let the chance slide, but well, it wasn't really the boy's fault, he hadn't even known his father. 

"That was quite some time ago," he said instead, indicating that this topic, as far as he was concerned, was closed.

Potter gave a small shrug, then, fortunately, caught on to the fact that Snape did not care to carry on this particular conversation. "I guess," he said, and turned back to his food.


	12. Taking inventory

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**12. Taking inventory.**

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday went by quickly again. Harry finished his homework on Monday, apart from the Transfiguration essay of course, and he spent almost all of his free time flying.  Regardless of Professor Snape's reluctance to talk about Quidditch, once he had finished his homework, Harry had asked and received permission to go out in the mornings and put in even more practice time.

Professor Snape let him brew increasingly difficult potions, and Harry was surprised to discover it was actually at least as much fun as any other form of magic, as long as he didn't have to worry about getting yelled at all the time. Potions had been his least favorite subject, together with Divination, which was still as vague as ever to him. And of course Professor Trelawney was hardly his favorite teacher either, with her constant predictions of his death and doom. For the first time, Harry really noticed the way the potions changed color and consistency, and he finally started to understand the way the ingredients interacted, something which had eluded him until now.

So here he was, at dinner Wednesday evening, and thinking about whether he could still go out and fly tonight or whether the thunderstorm that was predicted would arrive before then. The ceiling was no help; it only showed the sky directly overhead and gave no hint to what could be looming on the horizon. He would like to get another hour or two in, once the weather changed who knew when it'd be sunny and dry again. 

"Harry, I'd like you to come down tomorrow morning as well, I'm going to take inventory and I could use your help," Professor Snape said.

Harry started. "Eh?" he said.

"I asked if you could come down in the morning tomorrow, I can use your help with the inventory," Snape repeated, frowning.

"Sure, sir, I will," Harry replied quickly. He had been far away with his thoughts, but that wasn't what had startled him. Had Snape really called him Harry? Snape hadn't seemed to notice, and Harry didn't want to spoil anything by drawing attention to it. "Sorry, sir, I was just lost in thought," he added.

"I noticed," Snape remarked dryly. "Well, as long as you pay attention for the inventory itself. We'll go to Diagon Alley on Saturday, make sure you have your own list of books and supplies ready by then."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He had not given much thought to how he was to get his books this year, as there had been so much to worry about already, but of course he did need a good many things for his next school year. He had written down everything he had needed before his uncle threw him out, but he must not forget the transfiguration book or the spilled potion ingredients. That would be something, if he'd be taking inventory with Snape and forgot about refilling his own!  

Harry went down to the dungeons immediately after breakfast. Late last night the thunderstorm had indeed arrived, and with it the change in the weather, so he did not even have to regret missing a morning of Quidditch practice. Of course, in the dungeons he would notice as little of the rain as he had of the sunny weather last week. Professor Snape was already in the store room when he arrived.

"Good morning, Harry. Take a chair and one of the small desks so you have somewhere to sit and write," Professor Snape greeted him as he came in.

"Morning Professor," Harry replied quickly. Now he knew he'd heard his name. "Coming right up."

He pulled the furniture in, and Snape handed him some parchment and a quill.

"Write down the ingredients I name, and the amounts needed. That's everything, but it'll go a lot quicker than when I have to do it all myself, and quoting quills are terribly unreliable," Snape explained. 

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He sat down and Snape began to call out ingredients, starting with the common, non-magical ones.

Writing quickly, Harry did his best to keep up. Only a few times did he hesitate on a difficult spelling. Finally they reached the zinc (scrapings and powder) and the zucchini seeds, and Snape called for a break.

"It is still a little early for lunch, but we can start on the magical ingredients after we eat," he suggested. 

Harry was all too happy to agree, his fingers were numb from writing.

And all too soon they were back. With the magical ingredients, Harry hesitated a few times more. They just had not covered everything in class, and some of the names were really, really strange. What to think of bazzanituzitu shields (the shields of a magical bug found in Africa) or coatloatotol scales (from a small, magical fish found off the coast of Mexico)? 

But to Harry's relief Snape did not berate him for not knowing these. When he noticed Harry was stuck, he told him how to spell the name and even added what it was used for. 

All went fine until they reached the G. Gem drops, gem dust, gildenrod, Gillyweed. Oops. Harry hesitated. Without turning, he knew Snape had come to a stop as well.

Taking a deep breath, Harry put down his quill and turned around. 

"I did not take it, Professor," he said.

"I knew that when I saw you last week in the store room, you'd never been in here before. But I think you know who did," Snape replied dryly.

Harry swallowed. So that's why Snape had sent him into the store room without explaining the system. He took another deep breath and made himself meet Snape's stare.

"I can't tell you, sir. The person who gave it to me did so of his own accord, I did not ask for it, and I didn't know where it came from 'til you told me the next day. But he helped me and I'll not repay him by telling you his name." Harry was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. After a brief hesitation, he added, "I will replace it, after all I did use it. I'm sorry, I guess I should've offered to do that when I found out it came from your stores." 

Of course, he had been much too afraid to do that at the time. If he had not denied any knowledge of the Gillyweed, Snape would've made him tell who had stolen it, he was sure. He still worried Snape would not accept his explanation. But there was no way he could betray Dobby.

Professor Snape had waited him out, the almost-empty jar in his hand.

"So you will not tell me who took it upon himself to steal from my stores," Snape said darkly.

Harry shook his head and repeated what he had said. "Sorry, sir. I'll replace it but I'll not tell on my friend." After a moment's thought he added, "It was _not_ Ron or Hermione," taking the heat away from the two most likely suspects. 

Snape frowned, then stared at him for a long time, but Harry refused to look away. Finally, Snape spoke again.

"Very Gryffindor of you, to protect your friends. I suppose it's futile to convince you to do otherwise. I must say I would've been disappointed if you'd indeed asked one of your friends to do the dirty work for you. Very well, you can replace the Gillyweed."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, greatly relieved. He turned back and picked up his quill.

"Oh, one more thing," Snape added.

Harry turned back.

"Next time you or your friends need anything, you come to me and ask."

"Yes, sir!" Harry replied sincerely. Of course, last year that would've been unthinkable, but well, that had been then and this was now. He meant what he said.

Snape nodded briefly, then put the jar back and turned towards the shelves, calling out the next ingredient. Gleam powder. Harry quickly wrote it down.

They finished the magical ingredients just before dinner. Professor Snape told him to leave the table, tomorrow there would be the much smaller stock of rare items left, and the commonly used items which were kept on the shelves in the classroom. But most of it was done.

The next morning Harry was on his own again. He sent Hedwig out with another letter for Ron. He did not go into great detail about anything that had happened the past week, he did not think Ron would understand. He did write he'd spent a lot of time practising his flying skills and that getting his books was going to be taken care of, for of course the Weasleys had helped him the previous years. 

The afternoon went by quickly. The rest of the ingredients didn't take long, they were done well before dinner and Professor Snape was obviously pleased it had all gone so quickly. 

Dinner time came again.

"Harry, what else do you need apart from your books? I like to know where we'll have to go tomorrow," Professor Snape asked. 

Harry did not need his list to answer. "Ink, a couple new quills, parchment, almost all new potion ingredients –most of what I had left got spilled all over the yard when my uncle threw the trunk out-, a jar of all-weather broom wax, owl treats, my robes are getting too short, and I have to get a new copy of my transfiguration book," he summed up.

"What happened to your old one?" Snape asked. 

"I'm not sure, I think it must've fallen underneath the bed or something and my uncle missed it, 'cause I didn't have it when I got here. I had a lot of notes in it, too, but I can't hardly go back for it. If they didn't find it and threw it out with the trash, already."

"We can stop by there tomorrow and pick it up, if it's still there," Snape said. 

"That'd be great, Professor. We can't get there by floo though, the fireplace's walled up," Harry replied, remembering the time the Weasleys had come using the floo system. 

"We can floo to Mrs Figg's, that is close by," Snape suggested. 

Harry almost dropped his fork. "Mrs Figg? She's a witch?"

"Yes, she is. She's an old friend of the Headmaster's. She was made your Secretkeeper, and went to live in the neighborhood to keep an eye on you and your family. Apparently she did not see much of anything that was going on. I thought you knew she was a witch, you heard the Headmaster name her last year, didn't you?"

Mrs Figg was his Secretkeeper? That did explain why Dumbledore was so sure he was safe at the Dursleys. But why hadn't the Headmaster told him? And… _Mrs Figg_?? 

"Well, yes, I did, but I thought that had to be another Mrs Figg. She never told me anything! And why didn't she ever do anything about the Dursleys? They never hit me that hard before but…," Harry said, and hesitated. He'd rarely told anyone much about how the Dursleys treated him, or about the closet under the stairs. Even Ron and Hermione didn't know the details. "They always treated me like crap," he finished.

Snape raised his eyebrows but he did not comment on Harry's choice of words. "As I said, she clearly did not see everything that was going on. She was an Auror, but in my opinion, she was far from the most perceptive person among them. Anything else, you'll have to ask her. For which you'll have plenty of time, since she's coming to Hogwarts. She will teach Defense against the Dark Arts this year."

"She what?" Harry asked, incredulously. 

Snape shrugged. "I have a lot of respect for Albus Dumbledore, but I don't know what he's thinking with his choices for that particular position."

"Everyone says you want it," Harry said.

Snape frowned. "Yes, I did want it. But with my background there never was much chance of actually getting it. And now it's too late. Now Voldemort has returned the curriculum in all classes will include various methods of defense against whatever method of attack may come, I'll do my part in Potions."

"I see, I think," Harry replied quietly. Until now, he had not really realised the impact Voldemort's return would have. He had known about the wards of protection on his home, but he was one of Voldemort's prime targets. That it affected what all students would be taught made it feel much worse. 

"That does bring up one thing I must tell you before tomorrow," Snape continued. "I doubt Voldemort will try anything in Diagon Alley, not with so many wizards there. He's only attacked Muggle targets and some isolated Muggle-born wizards. But I don't have to tell you he has reasons to hate us both, and he or one of his minions may be tempted to try something if they run into us. I want you to stay near me, keep your eyes open, en no fooling around." 

"I understand," Harry replied solemnly. 


	13. Little Whinging and London

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**13. Little Whinging and London.**

Harry woke up very early the next morning. He was still almost as excited about going to Diagon Alley as he had been the first time. Hogsmeade was cool, but it couldn't compare to Diagon Alley. And last year Mrs Weasley had picked up his school stuff because of the World Cup. He had been able to go Gringott's right after the end of last school year, but he'd gone with Mr. Weasley who'd only had time for that one, brief, errand, and nothing else. 

He tried to contain his eagerness at breakfast. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, his school robes shrunk in his pocket, in the light of their stop on Privet Drive. Professor Snape wore a dark suit, which to Harry's surprise looked quite in style. He'd expected Professor Snape to be as out of date as most wizards when it came to Muggle clothing, but Snape could've passed for any of Uncle Vernon's business partners. 

They floo'd from the fireplace in the Great Hall, to their first stop at Mrs Figg's. Harry recognised the cluttered room with the multitude of cats, although the several open boxes and crates were, of course, only there now that she was getting ready to move. 

Mrs Figg herself stood amidst the clutter, looking rather uneasy. She greeted them both. Harry returned her greeting shortly.

"Harry, I owe you an apology," Mrs Figg said nervously. "I didn't know how bad it was."

"No, apparently not," Harry said. He had intended to be polite, but he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

"You never said anything when you were here," Mrs Figg said apologetically. 

"Of course not! I always thought you were one of Aunt Petunia's friends and you'd go right back to her and tell her what I said! Did you think I _liked_ wearing clothes that were three sizes too big for me? Or glasses held together with cellotape?" Harry blew up. "_You _were supposed to be watching _me, I_ was just a kid."

Mrs Figg looked taken aback. She stared at him for the longest time. Finally, she sighed. "You are right. I'm sorry."

Harry snorted. It wasn't this last incident that bothered him, he hadn't seen it coming and he had lived with the Dursleys, not just a couple streets away. It was the years of cupboards, ridiculous clothes, broken glasses and cutting remarks before he knew there was ever going to be anything more to life, before he knew it was just for the summer months. But he would take her apology for now. "Whatever," he said, and turned.

Professor Snape had not made any comment, and did not say a word when they walked out the door and down the street. 

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Harry said after half a block.

Professor Snape shrugged. "Best you get it out of your system, better here than at Hogwarts," he replied.

"I guess," Harry replied. 

They took a right onto Privet Drive, and Harry immediately saw the hated house he had lived in. Now that he knew he was no longer going back here to live, it looked rather pathetic.

He stepped up to the door and rang the bell. For a long time, nothing happened, and he was about to ring again when he heard footsteps from inside. The door opened and Dudley looked out.

"Hi Dudley, glad to see you are back from the hospital," Harry said sweetly. For some reason he was having trouble controlling his voice once again, not that he was trying very hard. 

"You!" Dudley called out, looking shocked. "Mom, Dad, it's him!" He tried to slam the door but Professor Snape caught it and pushed his way in. Harry followed.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners, slamming the door on people?" Snape inquired. 

Dudley backed away, turning pale. Almost immediately, the door to the livingroom opened and Uncle Vernon stepped out. Aunt Petunia emerged from the kitchen at the far end of the hall, catching Dudley in her arms as he backed into her.

"What are you doing here? You promised you wouldn't come back! And who the hell are you?" Uncle Vernon bellowed. 

"This is Professor Snape, my Potions teacher at Hogwarts. We just came to pick up something I… forgot," Harry replied acidly. 

"Well, you should've paid more attention when you packed, then," his aunt snapped. 

Harry looked at her, confused for a moment, but Professor Snape turned to Uncle Vernon immediately. 

"You filth, she doesn't even know what a lowlife scum you are."

It was Aunt Petunia's turn to look confused. Uncle Vernon turned a little pale, which was all the more obvious because he was usually so red faced. 

"Dudley, get into the kitchen," he ordered. 

Dudley fled. 

"Harry attacked Dudley, then ran off while his aunt was at the hospital. He even vandalised his room," Uncle Vernon tried as soon as the door had closed after Dudley.

"And after all we have done for him, too. Fed him and took care of him for all these years!" Aunt Petunia added dramatically.

Professor Snape looked slowly from one to the other. He addressed Aunt Petunia first. 

"You might actually be self-deceived enough to believe that," he said flatly, then rounded on Uncle Vernon again. "But you are a lousy liar. A first year Hufflepuff could bring that with more conviction."

"I don't know what Harry's been telling you," Uncle Vernon tried, but it was obvious he was very nervous. Harry wondered why he didn't just give up.

"You know exactly what he's been telling me. And what he looked like when he arrived at Hogwarts two weeks ago."

Uncle Vernon threw a quick glance at Harry with his beady eyes, narrowing them even more as he looked down. 

"He looks f…," Uncle Vernon broke off as Snape frowned. "So what are you here for?" he stammered instead.

"Just like Harry said, we're here to pick something up. You missed one of his books when you threw his possessions out of the window."

Aunt Petunia started, but recovered quickly. "We threw it out, we cleaned the room and threw everything out," she blurted out.

"You did not," Harry said. He'd recognise that fake, shifty tone of voice any time. "I bet you haven't even been into the room. So I'll just go upstairs and grab it."

He went upstairs, not waiting for an answer. He'd guessed right, the room looked just like it had two weeks ago. There was new glass in the window, but other than that it looked as if no one had been in there. Dudley's broken stuff on one side of the room, where Harry had piled it at the start of summer. The rest of the room almost bare. Sheets still on the bed, lamp laying on the desk where it'd fallen. And underneath the bed, exactly where he had thought it would be –or perhaps he'd seen it there, without realising it?- his Transfiguration book, the almost-finished essay inside. 

Harry picked it up and quickly looked around the room for anything else that might've been left behind. The only thing he saw was an almost-empty packet of owl treats, but he left it. His Aunt might not have been in the room to clean it out, afraid of curses or whatever else she might find, but he didn't trust the Dursleys any better than they trusted him. He judged Dudley quite capable of poisoning owl treats, if his cousin had dared to enter the room and had thought of it.

Holding his book, he went downstairs again. He could hear his Aunt's voice but she fell silent as she saw him.

"Got it," he said. 

Professor Snape nodded. "Good. Then let's get out of here." He threw a withering look at the Dursleys, who shrank back. 

"Gladly, sir," Harry replied as they made their way to the door.

It wasn't good manners to leave without saying goodbye, either, but Harry did not care. He did not say a word nor looked back as they left the house. 

"Decidedly unpleasant people," Snape commented as they walked the short distance back to Mrs Figg's. 

Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

They didn't stay at Mrs Figg any longer than it took them to floo out, and soon Harry was brushing the soot off his clothes in the Leaky Cauldron. He pulled his robes out of his pocket. Enlarging them to their normal size, he threw them on and immediately felt much better. Here he belonged. He followed Professor Snape out behind the establishment and into Diagon Alley. 

"We drop off the list at Slug and Jiggers first, it'll take them a few hours to get everything ready," Snape said. "You can drop off your own list as well, it will save us time waiting later on."

Harry nodded as they stepped into the large store. 

The interior looked much the same as the previous times Harry had been here, and it still smelled strongly of strange and not all pleasant ingredients. When Professor Snape entered, the man behind the counter greeted him respectfully. He then pulled aside a curtain that closed off a doorway behind the counter, called out, and moments later a tall witch appeared. She was dark-skinned, wore flowing robes with tight sleeves, and dragon hide gloves. 

"Professor, good to see you again," she said. 

"Likewise, Madam Iruwa," Snape returned her greeting, sounding rather more friendly than usual. He handed her the long list of supplies he needed and she looked it over briefly.

"I will have your order ready by two o'clock," she said. 

"And his," Snape said, gesturing for Harry to give her his much shorter list. 

"Of course," Madam Iruwa replied, taking the parchment from Harry's hand. She smiled friendly enough, but her eyes were dark and seemed to bore into his. They briefly flickered to the Gryffindor shield on his robes. Here was someone who did not miss much, he thought as they left the store. 

Their next stop was Gringott's, for Harry had not taken much gold out when he had exchanged the galleons for Muggle money, not daring to show the Dursleys he had more than what he'd needed for his summer clothes. Harry greatly enjoyed the ride on the cart, and all too soon they reached the lobby again. 

Taking a left after stepping out of the bank building, they went by Madam Malkin's for Harry's new robes. There were only two younger kids in the store, whom Harry did not know. First years, no doubt. Harry was done soon and they proceeded to Flourish and Blotts.

Here, they spent more time. After Harry got his books, Professor Snape spent some time browsing through the Potions section. Harry saw several Hogwarts students, but no one from his own class. He exchanged a few brief greetings, but when they saw who he was with no one cared to chat for too long. The few Slytherins who saw them of course greeted Professor Snape respectfully, but avoided Harry. 

After Flourish and Blotts came the stationary shop for ink, quills and parchment. Harry would have liked to spent some time at Quality Quidditch Supplies, but he remembered how Professor Snape had broken off the topic the previous week and he only bought the wax he needed. Across the street, at Eeylops, Harry picked up the owl treats for Hedwig. He was surprised when Professor Snape studied the various owls in stock with interest. Still it was only lunch time when they finished Harry's shopping. 

Professor Snape suggested lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry readily agreed. Once again, several people greeted them from a distance, but no one stopped to talk. 

After lunch, there was still about an hour left before they could pick up the order. Professor Snape led the way to the small junk shop at the far end of Diagon Alley and spent some time browsing through the second-hand books, while Harry inspected the rest of the inventory. Most of what the store had in stock really was junk, but apparently Professor Snape had better luck with the books, for he purchased four old and dusty volumes.  

Walking back, Harry glanced over to the tempting storefront of Gambol & Japes. And on the other side of the street he noticed a small candy store he had not seen before. He'd been all out of sweets for a while, and of course he wouldn't be able to buy any on the Hogwarts Express, either. He was debating whether to ask Professor Snape for a stop at either of the stores when Snape spoke up.

"I'm not going to go into Gambol and Japes, but if you want to spend your money on Chocolate Frogs and the like, I suppose we have a few minutes left."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry replied, grinning widely, and was inside the store in a blink. He quickly picked out some of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, some Droobles Best Blowing Gum, a few Peppermint Toads and, indeed, Chocolate Frogs. They had a few items he'd never seen before, but he did not want to try Professor Snape's patience. He was long glad Snape had agreed to go in in the first place. 

Emerging from the store, he broke open a bag of Bertie Bott's and picked one out. 

"Would you like one, Professor?" he offered. He seriously doubted Snape would, but it was polite to ask.

"No, thank you. I've never understood why one would like a sweet when there's also a chance of vinegar or baking grease," Snape replied.

"That's the fun of it," Harry said. "Well, mostly fun," he admitted after a moment, remembering one or two particularly nasty ones.

The tall witch was waiting for them with several boxes of ingredients. Professor Snape signed for the purchase and Harry paid for his few items. Then the man who usually stood behind the counter helped them carry everything to the Leaky Cauldron. They shrunk the non-magical ingredients, and Harry's school stuff, but there were still several boxes left that couldn't be shrunk, and two boxes that couldn't even be levitated. Professor Snape put a shielding spell on those before taking them into the fireplace.

Fortunately, they could floo directly to the dungeons. The system was really convenient, any fireplace that was hooked up could be reached and they wouldn't have to carry everything through half the school. Harry had gone first, and stood waiting at the store room door, carrying three large boxes in his arms and two more tethered and floating behind him. Snape stepped out of the fireplace. 

"Umbra Niger," Professor Snape called out, and the store room opened. 

Surprised but relieved, Harry went in and put down his large load. 

"Most of it can wait until Monday, but I would appreciate if you could help me put these away," Snape said, indicating the two special boxes.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. 

That task took almost two hours, for some ingredients needed complicated spells and protections for storage. Professor Snape took the time to explain the procedures, and Harry found he was fascinated by the rare items. Well, most of them anyhow, some were just plain gross.

Harry then put his own purchases away, leafed through some of his new books, and went down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Sunday was utterly uneventful, especially compared to the past couple weeks. Harry was glad Hedwig flew in with a return letter from Ron, for other than that there was not a whole lot to do. It was still pouring rain outside. He was glad that it had been dry in London the previous day, even though it had been overcast. He did go out briefly, and knew it was good to practice in any kind of weather, but it had definitely been more fun to fly in the sun. At least he hadn't purchased his all-weather broom wax for nothing, not that he'd have to worry about that here in Scotland. He carefully cleaned and waxed his Firebolt before going out, then dried it off just as carefully when he returned. Finally, he sat down and finished his Transfiguration essay, then added a couple things to his Potions homework that he had learned during the previous week.  


	14. An end to the summer has anything really...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all these other great characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them!

**14. An end to the summer –has anything really changed?**

Professor Snape was pleased with Harry's help putting the rest of the ingredients away on Monday. Inventory had gone a lot quicker, too, with Harry writing everything down. It still irked him he did not know who'd taken the Gillyweed. He knew Harry wouldn't tell him, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. It certainly hadn't been Crouch, Harry wouldn't protect him. Longbottom, probably Harry's closest friend after Weasley and Granger, wouldn't have been capable of the feat. Ginny Weasley and that Creevey boy were rather infatuated with Harry, but he didn't think either would know about Gillyweed or would be able to break into the stores. Ludo Bagman had been an obvious supporter of Harry but although Snape would not put it above the man to cheat on the Tournament by helping Harry, he would've bought some in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley instead of stealing it. The most likely were the Weasley twins. But they knew a way out of the castle, he was sure of that, and could also have gone to Hogsmeade to purchase their own at far less risk. Of course, the Weasleys were notoriously low on money... It could've been them, except Harry had used the singular 'he'. The Weasley twins _never_ did anything alone. No, he couldn't figure it out. 

Enlarging and opening the last of the boxes, Professor Snape noticed Harry hesitated over something he had unpacked. He looked over to see what had caused the interruption. Ah, of course, the Boomslang skin. Last year's supply had been used by Crouch, but no doubt Harry was thinking of the lot that had disappeared two years earlier. 

"I know who took that in your second year," he said quietly.

Harry almost dropped the jar. "You know?"

"Did you really think I believed the story she told Madam Pomfrey? The results of Polyjuice Potion when used for animal transformations are erratic enough that if her appearance were the only clue, I might've believed her explanation. In fact, the potion is so difficult that I wouldn't even have considered a second year student brewing it. Except, of course, for the Boomslang skin gone missing at exactly the right time."

"Then why didn't you do anything?" Harry asked, clearly confused.

Snape shrugged. He wasn't sure he wanted to explain, but he had started about it. Perhaps he himself should think before he opened his mouth. He really wasn't used to being on speaking terms with anyone anymore. 

"I know you will not tell me who took the Gillyweed, can I ask the same from you? To not ever tell anyone, especially not Miss Granger?" he said, after a moments pause. 

Harry blinked, then nodded. "Sure," he promised. 

"Miss Granger brewed a working Polyjuice Potion in her second year. I have no idea where, but it must have been done in less-than-perfect conditions. Alone, for while I'm sure you and Weasley knew about it, I doubt she let either of you near it." 

Harry nodded, confirming that.

"I'm not sure I could've made that potion in my second year if I'd had someone look over my shoulder helping me. I don't like her, but there's no way I was going to get her expelled for such a feat. Of course, nor can I encourage that kind of behaviour. She broke several rules and what she did was quite dangerous as well. Some animal Polyjuice incidents have been fatal. And finally, the last thing Miss Granger needs is another reason to believe she knows everything. I may tell her some day, when she's a lot older and no longer a student here. Until then, I will pretend to believe she botched a transfiguration spell."

"I guess I understand," Harry replied.

"Good, then let's get on with putting these things away. I want to get this finished before dinner," Snape said. Which was rubbish, they would easily be done in time, but there was only so much of this he could stand. 

Tuesday came and went, and then it was Wednesday. Well, of course Wednesday followed Tuesday, that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was that it was almost time for school to start, and the rest of the staff started to return. 

Poppy was the first, floo'ing in early in the morning. She reported in, then went at her own business, preparing the hospital wing for the new school year. Snape avoided her inquiries after Harry, and she didn't press the issue. He brewed many potions for her and she treated the students for most accidents that happened in his class. It would be too much to say they were on friendly terms, but she knew him well enough not to keep on about something he didn't want to talk about.

Then came Professor Sprout. He frequently had to work with her, too, since she raised many of the plants he needed for his potions. But she irritated him much more than Poppy did. She got on his nerves with her cheerful manner, she frequently refused to compromise and kept smiling merrily whatever he did –unless he had taken too many points from her students, then she'd just look at him with an accusing stare all through dinner. Fortunately, they had refilled pretty much all the ingredients that were grown here at Hogwarts at the start of summer, before she'd gone on holiday, and he would not have to work closely with her for some time to come. 

Harry of course noticed he was terse again, but he didn't feel like explaining this time. Even so, Harry took his cue, and didn't go into much detail about the past weeks when Professor Sprout asked at the dinner table. Soon she gave up and started to give an account of her own summer instead. Snape tuned out, thinking instead of what the next days would bring.

Albus was supposed to return tomorrow. The Headmaster could be exasperating at times, and Snape knew an 'I told you so' was inevitable when Albus heard he and Harry had learned to get along, but like Poppy, Albus knew when to stop pressing him. Most of the time. 

Far worse was Minerva, who would also be arriving tomorrow. If there was one thing he did _not_ want to hear from her, it was 'I told you so'. Next he knew she'd be expecting him to be nice to all the Gryffindors. And she did not know when to stop needling him, or, he suspected, did not care. 

Harry had indeed noticed the change in Professor Snape when the other Professors returned. Not that he would've called Snape extremely friendly at any time, but the last few days he'd turned much more irritable again. Not to Harry in particular, and Harry didn't worry it was anything he'd done, but he was still a little disappointed. At dinner on Wednesday, Professor Sprout chatted cheerfully, Snape glowered, and Harry felt quite uncomfortable. Once again, he wished for the summer to be over and for the return of his friends, so he would be sitting among them and not with the staff.

Thursday morning, Harry was in the common room. It was still raining outside. He had just changed out of his muddy clothes, then used a spell to clean the mud he had dripped in the halls –with him as the only student in the castle, Filch would know exactly who to blame if he left it- and he was now carefully cleaning his Firebolt.

He looked up when the portrait swung open. To his surprise, Dumbledore stepped through the opening. 

"Headmaster!" he said.

"Well, hello Harry, pleasure to see you again. Lemon drop?" the Headmaster said as he sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace.

Harry grinned and accepted the sweet. Some things certainly wouldn't change, and he was glad for that. 

"I'm surprised you came here, Headmaster," he said.

Dumbledore looked around the room. "Instead of asking you to come to my office?" 

Harry nodded. 

"Well, there are no students in the castle, and Fawkes is nearing his Burning Day again. I could've used an owl but it's two staircases and a corridor further to the Owlery than to the Gryffindor rooms," the Headmaster pointed out.

That certainly made sense. Harry put his Firebolt down on the table, then sat down and waited to hear what the Headmaster had come to see him for. 

"First of all, I owe you an apology," Dumbledore started, once Harry was seated.

"You, sir?" Harry asked.

"I told you to return to the Dursleys. I knew they were not a pleasant people, but I didn't know how bad it was. Now or before."

Harry felt a little embarrassed. "You couldn't have foreseen this, sir," he said. "And even before, Mrs Figg was the one who knew the Dursleys. I don't know I like her much, but you couldn't have known what she didn't tell you. And I didn't tell you everything about them, either." 

Harry wasn't sure why he was defending Dumbledore, while he blamed Mrs Figg. Of course, he liked the Headmaster much better. Also, here at Hogwarts he'd been older and Dumbledore certainly was not a friend of the Dursleys; he could've confided in the Headmaster and told more about how the Dursleys treated him. 

"I understand that Professor Snape told you Mrs Figg served as your Secretkeeper, and she was to keep an eye on you too. I'm the one who selected Mrs Figg for that task, which makes it my responsibility. It certainly shouldn't have been yours, not now and certainly not when you were younger," Dumbledore said, sounding very definite. 

"If you say so," Harry replied, a little unsure. 

"I should've listened to Professor McGonagall, she didn't like the Dursleys the night we dropped you off there," Dumbledore added with a rueful smile. "I chose them because I thought you'd be safe there, safe from the Death Eaters, and so they could raise you normally instead of as The Boy Who Lived. Well, some safety that turned out to be, and I now see that you weren't raised 'normally' at all. She'll be mad at me even if you are not, and rightly so."

"I'm not angry at you, sir" Harry repeated. "You really couldn't have known everything."

"Well, thank you Harry," Dumbledore replied. "I honestly regret what happened, but I'm glad you do not hate me for it. You can of course stay here for the Christmas holidays and at the end of the year we'll discuss where you can stay for the summer, with your input of course. Which brings me to the next point, how did it go between you and Professor Snape?"

"I could not possibly hate you, sir," Harry replied, sincerely. "And, well, I think it went pretty much okay. Lots better than I'd thought, anyway." He gave a brief account of the past three weeks, while the Headmaster listened intently.

Dumbledore smiled broadly, his eyes glittering again. "I hoped it would work out," he said.

Harry briefly grinned back, then he remembered the previous dinner. "We got along when it was just the two of us, but I don't know if anything's really changed. As soon as Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey returned, Professor Snape became really irritable again."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, of course. Professor Snape has been like that for a long time, grouchy and unfair to everyone but those of his own House. I don't know if he'll ever be much friendlier to others. And of course he can't admit he was wrong about you to the entire staff, let alone the students. But you got through to him, and that's a start. Just don't expect any miracles in front of the entire class."

Harry nodded. "I suppose," he replied. Well, it was about all he could've hoped for. He wasn't sure what would happen the coming year, but he hadn't expected Snape to be friendly in front of everyone, or be nice to all of his friends. 

"Good," Dumbledore said. "I knew you'd understand. Which is also why I thought you'd manage in the first place. Now, I have a lot to do, but if there's anything you want to talk about, come see me."

"I will, sir," Harry promised.

Dumbledore left. Harry finished cleaning his broomstick, then sat down by the fire to read for a brief while until lunch.

He'd hardly opened his book when he received another visit. This time it was Professor McGonagall, who had also come here rather than sending for him. 

"Harry, I am so glad you're okay. I knew something was wrong with those people when I saw them all those years ago." She shook her head. "I should've insisted we find some other family to take you in."

Harry blushed. He felt a little uncomfortable with his Professors apologising to him. And it didn't escape him that the only one who'd been close enough to really know the Dursleys had been the one to come up with the most excuses. 

"You couldn't have known," he said again. "But I'm happy I don't have to go back there anymore."

Professor McGonagall nodded briskly. "That goes without saying. You did well coming here." She paused a moment, then continued. "I regret you found so few of us here."

Harry knew of course what she meant, even if she didn't name Professor Snape. And she was likely the last person in all of Hogwarts whom Snape would want to know they'd got along. He shrugged. "We managed," he said, non-commitingly  

Professor McGonagall looked doubtful, then sniffed. When Harry did not elaborate, she reached into her robes and pulled out a small object. 

"Something else," she said, briskly but with a smile. "With all the trouble with You-Know-Who, I didn't get to send you an owl earlier in the summer like I usually do, but I've chosen you and Hermione as the new Gryffindor Prefects this year."

Harry lighted up. He hadn't expected this at all. He knew Percy had received word early in summer, so when he'd not received any mail from Hogwarts except for the book list, he'd assumed he wouldn't be chosen. He'd thought he'd broken too many school rules, even if it'd usually been for good reasons. 

"Thank you, Professor!" he said enthusiastically. 

She handed him the small, silver badge with the large P. He took it, examining it and turning it over in his hands. No matter what Fred and George might think, he'd been disappointed when he thought he wouldn't be a Prefect. Sure, he liked to have fun but he also tried to do his best in school. He realised he was grinning like an idiot and turned red. What would Professor McGonagall think if he acted like this? Fortunately, she only gave him a fond smile. He pinned the badge on his robes with a proud grin.

Entering the Great Hall for lunch, he was met by Hagrid. The giant got up from the table, breaking off his talk with Professor Flitwick, walked over to Harry and gave him a big bear hug. 

"So good to see you!" Hagrid boomed. 

"You too," Harry replied, grinning, when he could breathe again. 

"And a Prefect, too. Well, you deserve it," Hagrid said as he noticed Harry's badge, and slapped him on the shoulder. 

Harry blushed again, then let himself be led to the table. He gave a detailed account of the incident with his uncle, but once again he brushed over the details of the past weeks. Although he did tell Hagrid lots about his flying sessions. Hagrid hadn't played Quidditch but he was interested in the game, if not quite as much as Ron.

After lunch he went down to the Dungeons like every day before. 

"Now that everyone is back, you do not have to come here," Professor Snape told him brusquely. He had scowled all through lunch, sitting at the other side of the table next to Professor McGonagall. Harry had wondered about their seating arrangements, why did the two people who disliked eachother most sit next to eachother? Then, they'd probably had to discuss school business. But it hadn't improved Snape's mood, that much was certain.

"I don't mind, sir," Harry said as he started to set up a cauldron. As per Dumbledore's advice, and his own experiences these past weeks, he didn't start a discussion but simply started work like normal. 

Professor Snape nodded just as brusquely as he had spoken, but thawed a little as the afternoon wore on. 

At the end of the afternoon, Professor Snape sent Harry to the hospital wing with a large box of potions and antidotes for Madame Pomfrey.

Fortunately there was nothing in the batch he couldn't use a mobiliarca spell on, so all he had to make sure of was that he did not bump into anything. With the box floating next to him, he negotiated a winding staircase and turned the corner to find himself facing Peeves, hanging in the middle of the hall and blocking it. The poltergeist was holding a stick with which he'd been poking at a painting of a small unicorn fowl, which was running through the frame, blowing steam from its tiny nostrils. The sides of the painting were covered in Spellotape, preventing the little creature from running to the next painting.

"Get out of the way," Harry said.

"Oh, still so unfriendly," Peeves replied. "What do you have there?"

Harry was not about to tell him, but Peeves was pretty quick on the uptake. 

"Oh, I think I know, all those potions aren't they? Hm, I don't see why they are needed, for most of the students it's an improvement, whatever happens to them in the potions lab." 

"You really wouldn't do that," Harry said. "Not if you want to remain at Hogwarts."

Peeves cocked his head. "Ah, I can't be expelled that easy," he said. "And it's so much fun to see the students with all those warts, or boils, or looking all green." He twirled the stick as if to toss it at the box. 

Harry had enough. Last time he might've won just by arguing, but then he hadn't been responsible for an entire box full of antidotes, either. He pulled his wand out of his robes.

"Expelliarmus," he called out. 

The stick clattered to the ground and Peeves flew backwards, tumbling against the wall, looking shocked. Without further ado, Harry pulled the tether he had on the box and continued on his way.

"That was mean, you don't play by the rules!" Peeves called after him, accusingly, but Harry ignored his protest. 

Friday the only noticeable event was the arrival of Mrs Figg –Professor Figg, Harry thought, although he wasn't sure he could think of her like that. Harry managed to avoid her, even if he was perhaps a little obvious about it. Oh well. He'd treat her respectfully in class but he didn't care to be any more friendly than he had to.

Saturday was a busier day. Harry hadn't had any plans of his own, since it was still lousy weather and he'd finished all his own work, but the teachers were very busy with the final preparations and Harry made himself useful where he could. He ran errands, helped Professor Sprout take the last plants out of stasis, went with Hagrid checking the boats the first-years would be using, and sent out a few express owls for Professor McGonagall. Several first year students had waited until the very last moment asking for details on what to bring and how to get to platform nine and three-quarters. It was almost unbelievable that four years ago, he himself had gone to King's Cross station not knowing how to get through the barrier. 

Dinner that evening, the last night before the students would arrive, was more formal and elaborate than usual. All teachers and staff were attending, including Filch, who normally did not eat at the staff table. Not that he much any friendlier than usual, but he was there. As was Professor Trelawney. Harry had not seen her at all, and he'd almost forgotten about her. She had forgotten him as well, apparently, because she blinked in surprise when she saw him, and only after a few moments seemed to remember. Harry greeted her friendly enough but then made sure he sat at the other end of the table. To Harry's surprise, even Professor Binns floated down and sat with them, although of course he did not eat.

The food was wonderful and even the mood was pleasant. Those who'd been away from Hogwarts and who were usually more inclined to speak carried the conversation, but even Professor Snape did not scowl as much as usual. Harry enjoyed his meal and the adventures among the Giants Hagrid told him about. For once, they were finished much quicker than he liked.

Sunday was quiet, almost everything had been finished in time –regardless of what it'd looked like the previous day- and to Harry's great pleasure the weather had finally cleared up. He spent some time flying and had a leisurely day, apart from being impatient and excited waiting for evening when the Hogwarts Express would arrive. Professor McGonagall had suggested he ride with the carriages out to the platform, and Harry had jumped at the opportunity. So now he was waiting on the platform in Hogsmeade with Hagrid, who would take the first-years across the lake, as always. He heard the whistle before he saw the purple engine, then it came into sight. It rolled into the tiny station, slowed down, and pulled up to the platform.

AN: Consider this story finished, but yes there will be a sequel covering the school year. I don't like writing a chapter at a time, but I didn't want to wait until I finished writing the entire fifth year either! I'm sorry for the (very) open ending… it was that or make everyone wait until I get done with all the rest! : )

AN2: Thanks for all the reviews so far! Thank you all who enjoyed it, there will be more but it may take a while.. I put a lot of time in my stories and obviously still slip up in places ::grin::  

I've fixed the nephew/cousin part, I don't know why I mixed that up. Thanks everyone for pointing that out!

I did kinda forget Sirius.. although I don't hate him he's not one of my favorite characters either, I guess Harry would've written to him. If people missed him I'll try to put him in the sequel but don't expect to see a whole lot of him! 

Kateydidn't, I don't know what to do about differences between the movie & interview info, there are several  inconsistencies within the HP realm, book/movie, interview/movie, etc… this worked for my plot so I'll stick to the movie version! Moody/Crouch told Harry that bit about using Dobby earlier, right after he took Harry into the castle & before Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall come in. No, it doesn't mention Hermione didn't allow Harry and Ron near the potion, but it doesn't say they actively helped, either… Plus Harry couldn't get his regular 2nd year potion right in the classroom the day Hermione steals the Boomslang skin…. I suppose they might've cut some ingredients, but more likely they lent only moral support. Would _you_ have let them touch it? ;) 

Zardiphillian Beryllix, I got punctuation in the summary, do you mean the punctuation in the title? FF.net strips it out, I've been doing my best to fix that but I can't. If there's a trick to do it, let me know. 

Draculella, yes, I remembered Professor Binns is a ghost. But since he's so set in his ways he kept right on teaching after he died, I figured he'd also keep going home for the summer, assuming that's what he did when he was alive. We know from the Death Day party ghosts aren't bound to stay in one place as they are in many other books. Oh, and guess who's *really* going to be upset having to change his curriculum the coming year? I haven't decided yet whether his lessons are finally gonna be interesting or whether Binns is gonna be able to make even lessons about Grindelwald and Voldie's earlier reign sound boring, but either way, goblin rebellions & stuff are out!


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